Do Not Go Gentle
by Vi Co
Summary: The continuing story of the Bartlet Legacy. A sequel to 'High Flight'. It is not necessary to have read the earlier story, but it is recommended to avoid confusion. Reviews are appreciated! Updated April 7, 2005.
1. Children of Politics

Author's Note – This story is a sequel to my earlier story, High Flight. Although that story was originally intended to stand alone as a completed one-shot, it expanded past anything that I could have initially imagined. That meant that with the simultaneous double timelines I had running with the 'flashbacks' being used to tell the story, I reached the point where the past and present merged too quickly. I found that I had a lot more story to tell.

The format of this story is identical to the format of my first story. The sections in bold are excerpts from the book that shares the title with the story. The sections in italics take place in the present, or in the year that the book is published. And the sections in regular text are the 'flashbacks' that tell the story, gradually bringing the story up to the present. If you find anything confusing, please let me know in one of two ways. Either use the handy review button in the bottom left corner of the screen or send me an email at vico1yahoo.ca No matter which way you get in touch, if you let me know what's confusing you, I'll try my best to fix the problem.

The Dylan Thomas poem used for the chapter titles of the book in this story is 'Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night'. It is referenced in High Flight, and, as with that story, the full text of the poem will be given at the conclusion of the story.

I'm starting to post this story now, even though I haven't managed to finish it yet. As a result of the unfinished status, updates may be a little slow. I do, however, promise to at least try to update every couple of weeks. (The opportune word there is try.) This story also hasn't been beta-read, so if you notice any mistakes or areas of confusion, please point them out to me.

There will most likely be at least one more story in this series... Title (and plot) are still to be determined. If you have any poems that you think would be appropriate or would like to see, please let me know.

* * *

**Do Not Go Gentle**

_He ran his fingers reverently over the smooth binding of the book, revelling in the sharp scent of fresh ink that filled the air. Even with the heavy weight of the book in his hand, he found it difficult to believe that the glossy covers contained a volume of his writing. The book he held chronicled his thoughts and his perceptions of the events that had revolutionized the nation, making history. And now those thoughts were recorded for all time, here for anyone who wanted to find them._

_He knew that although the words were his, he could never claim ownership of the story. The story was everyone's; it belonged to the wonderful entity that was Legacy, but, first and foremost, it belonged to the American people. _

_Even now, forty years after Bartlet turned over his office, his Legacy still remained strong. But more than that, they remained dedicated to their chosen causes. And for most of them, that cause was America._

_This was merely the continuation of their story. He had just been the one lucky enough to be able to record it._

**

* * *

**

**Do not go gentle into that good night,  
****Old age should burn and rage at the close of day;  
****Rage, rage against the dying of the light.**

**My sister and I are the children of great politics. We are not children of fine art or of classic literature. Despite that, there was still always something about the opening stanza of this Dylan Thomas poem that resonated with me. And I was never one to be deeply touched by poetry. But the language of this poem calls out to those things I do understand: fighting the good fight in spite of age, infirmity, or any other limitation.**

**I suppose that the fierce fighting spirit and strong sense of justice that both my twin Joan and I possess, the one that allows me to identify so strongly with this poem, has to be a result of equal parts nature and nurture. The two of us are, after all, the children of Josh and Donna Lyman.**

**There was once a time, not even so very long ago, when that simple statement, in and of itself, would have been an adequate explanation. In some circles of political scholars and for long-time followers of the Washington political scene, it still is. Although I did always find it pretentious, I was still inwardly disappointed when that was no longer a sufficient explanation for most people and I had to start giving out more background information.**

**You see Josh Lyman, our father, was one of the best-known political bulldogs in Washington for a period that lasted for nearly fifty years. Some of his trademark tactics are studied in universities and many of them are still being used today. Not to be outshone, our mother, Donna Moss-Lyman, was elected as a senator for Connecticut while finishing her university degree and raising two small children. Then she went on to become the first female floor leader of the Senate and the longest serving female party leader in either house.**

**While the achievements of our parents are remarkable, they must be considered in the context of our extended 'family'. More than likely you've heard of at least some of them, even if you don't actively follow politics. Mark Goldstein is a National Book Award winner and a former senior policy advisor for the Republican Party. Sam Seaborn was the first Democrat to win in Orange County and he was a two-term governor of California, bringing it out of one of the worst recessions in the state's history. CJ Cregg, former Bartlet press secretary, went on to win her own Pulitzer Prize and found the standard-setting newsmagazine _Inside Politics_. And these are only a few examples, and some of the lesser-known ones at that.**

**Growing up in the Lyman household, with these people as honorary family, for us, politics was a force as ubiquitous and as powerful as gravity. Instead of being rocked to sleep to the sound of lullabies, we had voting statistics and the wording of important pieces of legislation recited back to us. A framed reproduction of the Declaration of Independence was hung over my bassinet before I had even left the hospital; my sister had the first page of the Constitution above hers. We took our first steps from the knees of former president Josiah Bartlet, our Grandpa Jed. Instead of being able to list off batting stats, I could rattle off all of the members of Congress in alphabetical order, along with some of their voting records. Joan knew more Congressmen and Senators than movie stars. With beginnings like these, is it any wonder that we wandered into the world of politics?**

**For the two of us, there never was. Even before the ink had had time to dry on our Georgetown diplomas, the two of us had followed in our parents' footsteps, volunteering in campaign offices and getting the experience we knew could only be gained by digging in and getting our hands dirty. Despite our family connections, we worked every bit as hard as anyone else and doubtlessly far harder than some. We knew full well that if we wanted to move up, we had to earn it. Our parents never called in favours for us; we never expected them to.**

**Still, being who we were did come with advantages. We knew all of the major political players not only by name, but also by sight, district, and brand of politics. We'd had eaten dinner with most of the Democrats. Joan could recognise their arguing styles and how to beat them at their own games. I knew where their sympathies lay and what their passions were. The two of us were a team, each one making up for the other's weaknesses and failings.**

**We came together as a packaged set, the Lyman twins. And we stayed that way until Alexandra McCosham, yet another member of our extended 'family', offered us staff positions on her campaign for the Democratic presidential nomination. That split the two of us up, sending us off to work in fields that played up our individual strengths, although we did still work together closely. Even though the nomination campaign is probably no longer fresh in anyone's mind, except those of us who were there, the national events that followed still no doubt are. However, those events are for a different book; the scope of this one is nowhere near grand enough to deal with them, even if we were distanced enough to view them objectively.**

**Just know that this book is not intended as a memoir, an autobiography, or even a biography; rather, it is the continuation of a story that was begun long before I was born. It is the end of the tale of my parents' generation and it is the beginning of the account of our generation.**


	2. Waiting

"_So," Mark commented, "you've finally managed to join the club. It took you long enough."_

"_Yeah, well, these things take time," Noah replied glibly. _

"_You're just lucky that you managed to get a firm grasp of both punctuation and verb tenses," CJ noted._

"_I had a good teacher," Noah answered a bit ruefully. "They weren't always the easiest lessons, but I had a good teacher."_

"_So, what's next?"_

_Noah shrugged. "Well, I thought about trying for a National Book Award," he started, grinning over at Mark, "but then I thought I should set my sights a little higher."_

"_You do know that there really isn't anything higher than a National Book Award, right?" Mark asked good-humouredly._

"_There's one thing," CJ countered with a grin.._

"_Come on, CJ," Mark teased, "surely you can't mean a Pulitzer. They hand those things out like newspapers."_

_CJ raised her eyebrows. "I might not be able to hurt you the way I once could," she remarked. "But I've trained Sarah just about as well as Toby trained Noah."_

_Mark just laughed._

**

* * *

**

This book is dedicated to all of those who came before me in the Legacy. But a special thanks has to go out to Mark Goldstein. His book High Flight told the first part of the Legacy's story. His book is still in print, if you know where to look for it.

**Oh, and I can't forget to mention Toby Ziegler. He was the voice of a president, even as he held his ear. He helped found a new political dynasty. But more than that, he inspired a nation. I hope that it's a fitting tribute for him to have inspired this volume as well.**

* * *

"I don't know how you managed to make it through this waiting with your sanity still intact, CJ," Sarah complained, reaching up in another attempt to fix her already perfect hair. "I think I'm going to go out of my mind! My stomach is tied up in knots, but somehow there are still butterflies in it."

"Your hair is fine," CJ reassured her, reaching out to pull Sarah's hand away from the coiffed blonde locks. "Waiting for them to announce the winner is by far the worst part, but it's lmost over and then you'll know whether your updated résumé should read 'short-listed for a Pulitzer Prize' or 'Pulitzer Prize winner.'"

"Either one is something to be proud of," Donna added. "Now, we should really get back out there before Jeff starts wondering where his co-nominee disappeared to."

"Or before Josh and the others start doing something asinine, as they are all so fond of doing," CJ grumbled, putting her hands on Sarah's shoulders to steer her out of the washroom. "Besides, they just brought out the cheesecake."

"I'm too nervous to even think about eating," Sarah pointed out.

"They start making the presentations after the cheesecake," CJ told her.

"It wouldn't really be so bad if I just knew who'd won," Sarah responded, obediently allowing CJ to usher her back out the door into the crowded banquet hall. "Then at least I'd be able to enjoy the dessert."

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"You'll find out soon enough."

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"Toby Ziegler, if you've gone and done something stupid, I'll tell CJ," Alex threatened, reaching up to adjust the blindfold covering her eyes; the one that Toby had insisted she wear.

"She doesn't scare me," Toby asserted, swatting Alex's hands away. "Now keep your eyes covered," he ordered. "And preferably closed beneath that blindfold, too."

"They're closed," she assured him. "Not that it matters because I can't see through the blindfold anyway. I'm not sure what you're trying to hide. You were only gone for maybe seven minutes. You can't do much in seven minutes."

"Seven minutes is a lot of time," Toby told her. "You can do a lot in seven minutes." He guided her over to a chair, directing, "Sit."

"You could have at least let me keep my cell phone," Alex protested as she obeyed. "They're going to be starting the presentations soon. It wasn't enough that I couldn't go to the ceremony, but now I'm prevented from finding out what happened!"

"I did volunteer to stay back and help you with the twins," Toby reminded her, stepping forward to adjust something on the table in front of Alex. "I didn't even need to be coerced into doing it."

"And that scares me more than you know, Toby," she laughed. "It also makes me very glad that they're still with my parents for another hour."

"Yeah," he agreed. "That's probably a good thing." He did let a smile cross his face; he knew that she couldn't see him.

"Can I take the blindfold off yet?" she asked impatiently, hands already reaching up toward it.

"Fine," he ceded. "But keep your eyes closed until I tell you to open them."

She untied the knots holding the fabric strip around her head, listening as Toby fussed with a few more things on the table. "Can I open them?" she inquired. When Toby didn't answer immediately, she asked again, "How about now? Or now?"

"Open your damn eyes," he growled.

She opened her eyes to behold a table spread with red, white, and blue campaign materials. It took her a moment to even figure out exactly what she was looking at. "Bartlet for America?" she read off one sign, confusion evident on her face. She had figured out what she was looking at, but she still didn't know why.

"Yeah," Toby replied, pulling out the chair next to her and sinking down into it. "All of this was in the Manchester house. After Abbey died, no one knew what to do with it, but no one wanted to throw it out. I said that I'd take them. Last week CJ was cleaning out the attic and made me go through boxes," he continued. "Anyway, I found some things I thought you'd be interested in."

"This is all wonderfully nostalgic," she told him, still puzzled. "But I still don't understand what all the secrecy was for."

Toby shifted a few of the signs aside, revealing a crumpled napkin that had been placed neatly within a frame. "This is what started it all," he commented, ignoring the question. He held the frame out to her. Printed on the napkin were the same three words that were repeated on the rest of the campaign materials. "Three words written on a napkin were what launched a president," Toby said, awe creeping into even his voice. "These three words are what launched an era."

"Everyone knows the story of that napkin," Alex reminded him, still plainly wondering the reasons behind Toby's strange actions. "Jed kept that frame on his desk at Dartmouth."

"Yeah, but did he ever show you this?" Toby asked, moving aside tattered copies of stump speeches so that he could reach for another stapled sheaf of paper. He passed it on to Alex without another word.

"Why would he show me this?" she inquired, glancing briefly over the title page. "I was the one who wrote it. An essay detailing the continuing effects of Puritan morals on contemporary American society was part of the application requirements for his master's program," she explained, handing the paper back to Toby.

Instead of responding, Toby flipped to the last page and handed the booklet back to her. In the midst of all his other scrawled comments, Jed had circled three words.

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"Read that."

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"Sarah," Jeff replied exultantly, "I don't need to read it. The two of us were the ones who wrote it!"

"Just read it," she directed firmly.

"Unsubstantiated rumours of political scandal have been circulation throughout Washington since CNN broke a story last night about several Republican representatives allegedly accepting bribes from an as-yet unnamed corporation," Jeff dutifully read. "However, these allegations are just that, allegations. The facts point to something else entirely. The facts point to a scandal of a scale never seen before in American political history."

"That's enough," Sarah said, cutting him off. "Do you remember the night we wrote those words?"

"Of course I do!" he told her. "We only had like half an hour left until the print deadline, you were on the phone, desperately trying to get a source on some information that we couldn't get confirmed and shouting suggestions to me between questions. Had we had the time, I would have wondered if you were even listening to the answers," Jeff laughed.

"It's hard to believe that we managed to pull a Pulitzer out of that crazy mess," Sarah commented nonchalantly, trying to look as though winning a Pulitzer Prize was an everyday occurrence. If she wanted to jump up and down with glee, she hid it very well. Only her ear-to-ear grin betrayed her.

"It's hard to believe that we managed to pull a coherent sentence out of that mess," Jeff corrected. "I never did get to really thank you properly for bringing me in. I know for a fact that you were the one who mentioned my name to Danny that night."

"What makes you so sure that I was the one who mentioned your name?" she asked coyly, trying unsuccessfully to tone down her grin a little.

"You were probably the only one there who knew that I had the political background to handle a story like this. Danny would maybe have known that I had the investigative skills, but that's why I had been kept on that kind of story. He wouldn't have known about my dad, or about my degree, or that I watch CSPAN just as religiously as you do," Jeff explained. "It would have had to have been you."

"Well, maybe I mentioned your name," she said evasively. "And maybe I didn't."

"Come on, Sarah," he whined. "I know that it was you. I just want to finally be able to thank you properly."

"You don't think that the Pulitzer Prize is thanks enough?" she answered. "I couldn't done it without you. Now, the two of us have to go and have our pictures taken a million times. How's my hair?"

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"It's perfect."

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"Are you sure?" Ted asked. "I still think the phrasing in the second paragraph is a little awkward."

"Of course it's perfect," Alex assured Ted, trying not to roll her eyes. "You've been writing this speech for almost three months. And this is our fourth set of elections. You could always just recycle one of your speeches from the first three times; I'm sure no one would notice."

"It might be our fourth set of elections, but it's our first set following a big scandal. We've also never had elections after acting as floor leaders for nearly two years." Ted paused for a second, adding, "I just want this speech to be perfect because this time we've got a real chance at legitimately being elected floor leaders."

"You mean that one of us has a chance to be elected floor leader," Alex corrected gently. "It's back to the regular drill with this one, Ted."

"We're back to hating the Republicans and the Republicans hating us," he agreed. "But there's a floor leader position and there's a Whip position," he reminded her.

Alex thought back to the table spread with Bartlet for America memorabilia. She thought of the napkin that Jed had treasured and the paper with its hastily scrawled note; both had been carefully tucked away in the same box.

"Ted," she started hesitantly, not quite sure why she was starting this and not quite sure how she was gong to finish it.

"Yeah?"

"Where do you want to be in six years?"

"What do you mean?" he questioned. "Six years is quite a while from now."

"Where do you want your life to be?" she said seriously.

He shrugged. "Hopefully happily married with a couple of kids, maybe still in the House. Maybe I'll switch to the Senate. I really don't know." He furrowed his brow, asking, "Why?"

She chose her words carefully as she answered. "In six years, hopefully I'll be on the campaign trail."

"If we stick with it, we all will be. Six years from now we'll be setting ourselves up for another general election."

"I want to be campaigning for the Democratic nomination," Alex clarified.

"The Democratic nomination for what?" he questioned in shock.

"THE Democratic nomination," she said. "For president."


	3. Writing

"_So," Donna mused, reclining back against the slatted back of her wooden chair, "after all of these years, I finally managed to convince you to bring me to Hawaii."_

"_Don't expect it to happen again any time soon," Josh warned her, squinting down the beach to the horizon, where the brilliant turquoise of the water met the pristine whiteness of the sand._

"_Josh, I had to wait this long to get the first trip. If we keep going at this rate, we'll never get to go anywhere again," Donna laughed, reaching for a bottle of sunscreen. "It's just too bad that I'm not young enough to show off those nice bikinis anymore."_

_Josh turned from his scrutiny of the scenery to look at his wife. "I don't know about that," he replied after a moment, his eyes sweeping up and down a form that was still lithe, in spite of age._

"_Go back to reading your son's book," she retorted happily, her alabaster skin flushing red._

* * *

"Hey, Alex," Ted called, rushing down the hall to catch up. "Wait up a minute."

"So, you decided to talk to me again?" she asked lightly, stepping to the side of the hallway and out of the main flow of traffic to wait for him.

Ted rolled his eyes at her as he approached. "I didn't talk to you for five minutes because I was in a state of shock. I can't be held responsible for the fact that you had to leave part way into that time frame, or the fact that I had out of town commitments all this last week."

"Those are just insignificant details," she laughed, falling into step beside him. "How was Maryland?"

"Same as always," he answered. "Anything exciting happen here?"

"Not really. Peters is balking on Social Security again and he's taken down six or seven others this time. But I don't think we had the votes for that one anyway, so there's no sense trying to bargain with them," Alex told him. "We'd only wind up making concessions that wouldn't do us any good in the long run. But you probably already knew all of that," she added. "I can't imagine you going a week without contacting your office."

"Yeah," he admitted. "I kept pretty close tabs on what was going on. And I knew that you'd be in touch if anything happened that we weren't expecting."

"Well, we were lucky in that the floor didn't fall out from beneath our feet and the ceiling didn't cave in on our heads," she noted. The two continued their hurried walk down the hall. After a pause, Alex asked, "Did you manage to get the forty-seventh draft of your speech written?"

"Twenty-first," he corrected absently. "And yeah, I did get it finished. There were a couple of passages that I wanted to change around before I had you read it over again."

"Hopefully you changed more this time than you had changed the time before. I couldn't tell the difference between the nineteenth and twentieth drafts. Actually," she admitted, stepping into his office, "I couldn't really tell the difference between the sixteenth and twentieth drafts either. Anyway, let me know if you want me to have another look at it. Or should I just dig out one of the earlier versions and just use that?"

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"Trust me, this time things have changed."

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"Are these the same things that changed when you failed that midterm?" Josh asked seriously, leaning back in his chair to get a better look at his daughter.

Joan tossed her long blond hair back over her shoulder and met her dad's stare coolly. "I seem to recall someone telling me once that you missed the Dean's List two semesters in a row," she countered evenly, unconcerned with her father's obvious displeasure.

"Look, young lady," Josh responded quickly, "whether I missed the Dean's List or not is irrelevant to the current discussion."

Joan didn't answer, just smiled sweetly back at him. He met her gaze for a moment, and then commented, "I had very good reasons for missing it both times, I'll have you know."

"Thirty-five seconds," Joan reported with a grin. "You couldn't even go a whole minute without defending yourself, Dad."

"That's not the issue," he retorted. "The issue is that you missed the Dean's List because you were out every night until who knows when, doing who knows what, with who knows who!"

"I missed it by like zero-point-two on my GPA and I was only out four nights a week: Monday and Thursday for Debate; Tuesday for Young Democrats; and Saturday for fun."

"Those for fun nights worry me. I know what university students do for fun," Josh responded, wagging his finger at her. But he couldn't stop his lips from turning up in an involuntary smile that he instantly tried to quash.

Joan noted it with a raised eyebrow. "You never seem to have any problems with Noah going out on Saturday nights," she protested. "That's not only favoritism, but also sexual discrimination, and thus prohibited by law."

"It doesn't have anything to do with the fact that Noah's a boy," Josh answered calmly. "It has everything to do with the fact that your brother made the Dean's List."

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"Good for him."

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"Yeah, Mark's really making the most out of the leadership vacuum over there," Sarah commented, blowing on her coffee to cool it down.

"Speaking of that," Jeff started, leaning closer to her across the small table, "I've started hearing rumours that the leadership races on the floor are going to get interesting this next term, on both sides of the aisle."

Sarah raised an eyebrow at him and took a careful sip. "What exactly did you hear?" she asked curiously, keeping her voice low.

"Nothing specific," he told her. "But the names that keep being whispered for certain positions aren't what we've been led to expect, inside connections or not."

"Okay," Sarah answered, leaning in. "You've got me interested. Something tells me this has the potential to be juicy."

"You're right," Jeff responded. He paused for a moment, leaving Sarah hanging in anticipation. "Keegan's not going to go for leader," he revealed. "He's leaving it wide open."

"He's what?" Sarah inquired sharply, forgetting to keep her voice low. "Alex has been saying all along that she wasn't going to give it a second look so that Ted could take the position without any serious competition."

"Well, he made some comments during one of his Maryland engagements that have led some smart people to think that he's not looking twice at the leader's position. I read some of his comments," Jeff told her. "And if I didn't know better, I'd think that he was stepping aside and aiming for Whip."

"Are you sure he's looking at the Whip position?"

"About as sure as you can be about anything in this game," Jeff assured her. "The only thing that I can't figure out is motive. We all know that Alex was setting herself up for the Whip position and Keegan was going to move in for floor leader. It was the agreement between the two of them, whether it was discussed or tacit. Why the sudden turnabout on Keegan's part?"

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"I'm pretty sure that I know why."

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"Honestly, CJ," Toby grumbled, ripping the top sheet off of his legal pad and wadding it up, "you don't know why and that's why you won't let it drop." He lined up his shot and tossed the paper ball in the direction of the garbage time. He missed and the paper bounced along the floor a couple of times, landing at CJ's feet.

Bending down, she picked it up. For a moment, she contemplated dropping it into the already overfull can, then she lobbed it back at him. "I do too know why."

Toby neatly caught the paper projectile. Instead of answering, he merely surveyed CJ for a long moment. It was a look that had driven interns and unwary publishing assistants to tears. But it had long since ceased to have any effect on his wife; Toby still hadn't given up trying.

"You know that look doesn't work with me, Tobus," she told him. "And I do know why you're agonizing over that yellow legal pad."

"Please, enlighten me," he invited sarcastically, leaning back in his chair and dropping his pen down onto the offending pad.

"You're writing."

"I think you've just won the award for deductive reasoning," Toby declared, throwing up his hands. "That explains it all!"

CJ rolled her eyes at him. "You're writing some sort of political speech," she amended. "You only use the yellow pads for politics. When you were setting off the fire alarms with your books, you always used the white ones."

"I see that we've progressed from Watson to Holmes," Toby noted dryly. "By all means, carry on. Who, pray tell, is this 'speech' for?"

"What, and risk my winning streak?" CJ asked, faking shock. "I think not."

"That's because you don't know," Toby stated firmly.

"I do too," CJ maintained. "But if you don't know, then I'm not going to tell you."


	4. Stackhouse

**Do Not Go Gentle**

**The fierceness and tenacity with which some politicians will stick to their causes can come as a surprise to people expecting only compromise and backroom deals. My father likes to tell the story of Howard Stackhouse as proof of this point. The seventy-eight-year old senator had been written off by almost everyone as just another cantankerous relic of the past. But this 'curmudgeon', as my father affectionately called him, successfully staged a ten-hour filibuster to prevent a vote on a multi-million dollar health care bill. His problem with the bill was simple. There was no money earmarked for autism research.**

**For this of you not intimately familiar with Senate rules, during a filibuster, a person is only allowed to keep the floor for as long as they can keep talking. It really doesn't matter what they say, but they can't eat or drink during that time. But they can't go to the bathroom either, so maybe it's a good thing they can't drink. They can't sit down or lean against anything; they just have to stand there. Really, the only thing that they can do is just keep talking.**

**Stackhouse was old and he had a bad cold. But he stood up in front of the Senate, and he talked for ten hours. He read anything he could get his hands on, and talked about anything he could think about. He kept talking because he refused to give in without a fight. He refused to compromise when it mattered to him.**

**Sometimes I wonder if anyone but my father remembers Howard Stackhouse anymore. Or has he marched off into the past forever, to join the ranks of other long-forgotten men and women who were willing to do anything for what they believed in. Much as I would like to believe the former, I'm regretfully forced to think that it's the latter. Only my father and the rest of the Legacy keep Stackhouse's memory alive now.**

**But there is perhaps one consolation for the continuing disappearance of these little known heroes from our collective memory; there will always be others stepping forward into the breech, ready to give their voices. As each generation steps aside in favour of the next, it is impossible for us to tell who will rise to the occasions. It is only the situations that we find ourselves in, and our reactions to those situations, that will tell.**

* * *

"We couldn't have just met in Washington?" Josh whined, sliding into the seat opposite Toby.

"We could have," Toby replied, leisurely sipping his Scotch. "But you didn't come here from Washington; you drove down from Connecticut, so I really don't see the difference."

"Yeah, but if we would have gone to Washington, I could have slipped over to the office for a couple of hours and gotten some work done," Josh explained. He reached for the menu, asking, "You ordered yet?"

Toby shook his head, gesturing shortly to the menu before him. Josh couldn't tell if the head shake was supposed to be an answer to his question, or a segue into his comment. "You know, apparently quote-unquote normal people don't treat vacations like punishment."

Josh shrugged. "Donna grew up with some of those people and something must have rubbed off. She's insisted that we take a two week vacation from work this year, even though she still hasn't stopped complaining that I never take her anywhere."

"She let you come here in spite of the 'no work' rule?"

Josh shifted uncomfortably. "I don't think that 'let' is the right word. I didn't really tell her I was coming until this morning, and then it was too late for her to do anything 'cause I was on my way out the door. She wasn't very happy about it though. I hope CJ can smooth things over for me a little before I get back."

Toby nodded sympathetically. "Good luck with that one. If anything, CJ'll just fan the flames. She's made that we're still not including anyone else in our discussions yet."

"What discussions?" Josh said jokingly. He and Toby had been following a strict policy of denial. They didn't want people knowing the details before they were ready to share them.

"She doesn't like that either," Toby snorted. "She thinks that if we're planning, we should come out and say it."

"I'm starting to think that Sam and Alex are the only two that aren't mad we're doing this the way we are," Josh noted with a sigh. "And I think that Sam would be if he weren't still in that lovey-dovey newlywed stage.

"They've been married for two years, since Sam's stint as governor ended; you'd think they'd be over it by now," Toby grumbled, knocking back the rest of his drink. "It's sickening."

"But it's at least keeping him off of our backs," Josh said.

Toby shrugged in reply. "We are going to have to start consulting other people pretty soon," Toby conceded. "We've only got three years of prep time left, and this is going to be a hard campaign."

"What campaign isn't?" Josh complained happily.

"Apparently very few of the ones that we want to win," Toby observed. "At the very least, this one will be interesting."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You can say that again."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Donna rolled her eyes in answer to CJ's comment, sipping at her glass of wine delicately. "But it still never ceases to surprise me just how clueless they are," Donna added. "I mean, Josh thought that I didn't know about his little trip until this morning."

CJ shook her head and settled back against the soft leather of the couch. "Toby thinks that by refusing to admit every trip he makes is some sort of a head-hunting or research mission, he's keeping me in the dark about it."

"Head-hunting? I knew that they'd need to start searching out people, but I didn't know that they'd started that already. How long has this being going on?" Donna inquired.

"Since Alex came out and told Ted," CJ answered calmly.

Donna's jaw dropped. "They've been head-hunting for two years already?" she asked in awe.

CJ nodded. "Well, not openly, but that's what they've been doing. Toby's been amassing lists of people. Every so often, he'll hear about someone or read something that someone's written and out come the yellow legal pads. A week or two later, he's usually on a plane to interview them for articles that he never seems to write. And he always takes the yellow pads, never the white ones."

"And the colour of his paper is significant how?" Donna raised her eyebrows, not understanding the difference that the simple change of colour made.

"He only ever uses the yellow for politics," CJ explained. "If he's doing anything other than 'official' business, he always uses the white."

"Oh," Donna replied. "You think that Alex knows how far along they are in campaign planning?"

"She's even more clueless than they think we are. They've purposely tried to keep it away from her; I think they're scared of spooking her. I'm pretty sure that's why they've tried to keep us in the dark, to prevent us from saying too much."

"There's just over three years left; they're going to have to start involving other people pretty soon," Donna stated confidently. "This isn't some Congressional campaign that they can throw together in the last couple of weeks before the vote."

CJ nodded knowingly. "Sam and Mal are looking at moving into Washington," she declared without preamble.

"That can't be just a co-incidence."

"Probably because it isn't."

"At some point in time, they are going to have to let Alex in on the clandestine organization that they've built up around themselves."

"They've started leaking plans to Jack," CJ confided. "But I think that they're enjoying the cloak and dagger stuff a little too much.:

"Jack's going to have to make his official exit from politics soon," Donna observed. "Milbrandt's term is up this set of elections and with the baby on the way, this might be as good of a time as any for Jack to consider making a graceful exit without attracting too much attention."

CJ's eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry. I don't think that I heard that properly. What did you say?"

Donna clapped her hand over her mouth.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I wasn't supposed to say anything."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"With a beginning like that," Jeff interrupted, "this conversation is obviously going to be another one of those off the record ones that we all desperately wish could be on the record." He sighed theatrically. "Carry on."

Sarah rolled her eyes and punched him lightly on the arm. "This doesn't have anything to do with anything that you don't already know."

Jeff reached out to jokingly confiscate her beer. "You're starting to get inarticulate; I think you've had enough to drink tonight."

She swatted his hand away from her drink. "I had another run-in with our illustrious editor," Sarah continued, making a point of taking a long swig from her beer.

"But you're the best of any of us at avoiding him," Jeff declared in surprise. "You've got yourself stationed over at the White House and you only really have to come back to the office to file. And half the time, you do that online."

"I know. But nonetheless, I had another nice little chat with him about what he sees as our growing conflict of interest."

"I don't think I like the sound of this."

"Basically, what it boils down to is that the two of us either have three years to convince him that we do not, in fact, have conflicts of interest…"

"Which wouldn't happen if we had a million years," Jeff interjected. "Go on," he urged, well aware that Sarah hated to be interrupted. That was why he persisted in doing it anyway, just to annoy her.

"Or we're going to have to find ourselves some new jobs."


	5. Bigger Picture

"_So," Mallory commented, straightening Sam's tie, "are you ready for work?"_

_Sam nodded, looking very much like a schoolboy again. "You're sure you don't mind?" he asked, shrugging on his overcoat._

"_Of course not," she answered, kissing his forehead. "You've been gone so much in the last little while that I don't think I could stand you around the house anyway. You'd just get underfoot."_

_Sam fixed her with puppy dog eyes. She just laughed and pushed his briefcase into his chest, pushing him out the door. "Go on or you'll be late. You don't want to set a bad example for the young ones."_

"_You sound like a teacher," he teased, blowing a kiss over his shoulder to her._

**

* * *

**

It was still early enough in the morning that the sidewalks weren't crowded. People were just starting to get themselves set up on the beach, but this was Rhode Island, not California or Florida, and there was plenty of space to go around. The sun shone brightly, warming the air, and the breeze off the water was pleasant, keeping the heat from becoming oppressive. Joggers wove their ways purposefully through the people who were just wandering along.

"Hey, Jack!"

Jack turned, looking over his shoulder to see who had called his name. "Josh?" he asked breathlessly, jogging in place. "What are you doing here?"

"A little birdie told me you jog this way every morning," Josh answered, a wide grin splitting his face.

"And I suppose that same birdie told you Alex took CJ and the girls on the ferry to Providence for the day," Jack replied, doubling back toward Josh.

"That'd be the one," Josh replied, motioning up the hill toward the parking lot. "Come on. Toby's waiting for us in the car."

"But it's gorgeous out here," Jack told him, looking down the length of the beach. "You sure that you want to get back in a stuffy car?"

"Stuffy? Do you honestly think that we'd bring a car that didn't have air conditioning?" Josh laughed. "And do you think that Toby would voluntarily spend unnecessary time outdoors?"

Jack chuckled instead of answering and jogged back up toward the car, Josh trailing behind him. "If we've got to have this talk inside, then I at least want something good to eat. Take me home, let me change, and I'll buy the two of you some breakfast."

"If you're going to buy us food," Josh joked, "I'm sure that Toby would even consent to eat outside."

"Be careful," Jack warned, wagging his finger playfully t Josh, "I just might take you up on that."

"Take him up on what?" Toby inquired sharply.

"He proposed we dine al fresco, provided I foot the bill," Jack explained. He eyed Toby and Josh, adding, "But judging from the way you two are dressed, you might overheat if you're outside an air conditioned space for more than a few minutes."

"What's wrong with how I'm dressed?" Toby asked defensively, looking down at his clothing.

"Khakis without a jacket or tie might be the summer standard in New York," Jack told him, "but things around here are a little more casual. You could loosen up a bit and, I don't know, put on a T-shirt or a pair of shorts."

"I don't do shorts anymore," Toby declared firmly. "Now get in the car. We've got stuff to talk about.

**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"That sounds like a line out of a bad movie."

**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"That's the point, you bonehead," Joan groaned, rolling her eyes and smacking Noah over the head with her notebook. "You need to get out more, brother-o'-mine."

"Well, sister unit, you need to spend more time writing your position papers and less time watching bad movies," Noah countered, reaching around the back of her chair to yank on her ponytail.

"I don't watch bad movies," she clarified. "I just mock them."

"How can you mock them if you don't watch them?" Noah asked innocently. He maintained the façade for a moment, until Joan's face had flushed. She didn't have an answer. Then he let a grin flash across his face. "I got you there," he laughed.

"Fine," she huffed, "I guess you can have that one. But the score's still not even. You've slipped in the last couple of weeks, Noah. It's going to take more than just one little trip-up for you to catch me."

"Actually," Noah countered calmly, "I believe this score of which you speak is swung in my favour. You're obviously not counting the last debate meeting. Or Watson's party. Or our government conference. Or…" He paused for a second. "Do I need to keep going?"

**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"I think you've made your point."

**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"I know I've made the point," Zoey answered. "But I don't just want to make the point. The jury can see that much on their own. I want to make them see the bigger picture."

"The jury might be able to see the point," Charlie told her, leaning back in his chair and closing the folder of information. "But if you don't make your point well, there might still be room for reasonable doubt."

"You don't need to repeat it to me again," she retorted sharply. "I understood it the first time that someone explained it to me. Back in law school."

Then she sighed and looked seriously at her husband. "I'm not worried about losing this case. It's an open and shut case. His partner confessed completely. I want to make the bigger point about these groups. But I don't want to make it look like I'm just settling old scores."

"That' is what you're doing though, aren't you?" he questioned. "I thought that was the purpose of you taking the case in the first place. These groups spawned off of West Virginia White Pride," he added needlessly, just in case she could have ever forgotten.

"The purpose of us taking this case was a desire to do the right thing," Zoey stated firmly. "Any number of firms could have taken the case, but we took it because having me try it made for better publicity. They don't trot it out often, but having Jed Bartlet's daughter try any case like this makes for big news."

"Publicity doesn't win a case."

"No, it doesn't, but the publicity on this case will raise the level of awareness on racist groups. People have all but forgotten about them. But they still exit. I want to spark debate on hate crime legislation. I want that to be my revenge for Rosslyn and for everything else." She sighed, reaching up to rub at the scars she carried from the kidnapping. "I don't want to win this case. I want to use it."

It was Charlie's turn to sigh as he looked across at his wife. "When you took it, you also knew that it would help bring me back into the national eye again, if I chose to run for the nomination."

"That had nothing to do with the reason I took this case," she declared firmly. "That point is fairly moot by now anyway," she noted wryly. "Besides, with the way things are proceeding, it won't come to trail until after the primaries are over anyway."

"You know, you were never meant to be a politician's wife," Charlie told her. "You were never happy standing in the background."

"I was never meant to be anything else," she corrected him. "After all, didn't someone say 'Behind every man is a strong woman?'"

"Close enough," Charlie laughed. "Your dad would have known who it was."

"He would have," Zoey agreed. "But you know, I'm just as happy being the wife of a well-loved law professor."

"And a brilliant civil rights lawyer in your own right," Charlie added.

"I had to fight back somehow," she said. "I just couldn't take it all lying down." She rubbed her hand over her scars again. "It's just not in my nature."

Charlie got up and walked around the desk so that he could stand behind his wife, placing his hands on her shoulders. "It's not in any of our natures," he granted.


	6. The Best Laid Plans

"_Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, in your deliberations, I would urge you to remember that these men committed a crime not only against one person, but rather against something bigger," Zoey told the jury, walking slowly back and forth in front of the jury box. "They committed a crime against the principles of this country. They singled out a group of people for their hatred; Isaac and Rachel Latterich were the two innocent people that the defendants chose to exact that hatred on."_

_She hesitated in front of the box for another moment, then she returned to her seat. She'd done all that she could. She hadn't made it personal, at least not in the courtroom. Now, everything was up to the twelve men and women of the jury._

_As the defence lawyer stood to begin his closing arguments, Zoey turned to look at the gallery. Charlie was sitting in the second row. He nodded his reassurance to her. He knew what hopes she'd pinned on this case._

* * *

Jack closed the door quietly behind him, not wanting to wake anyone. It was late, later than he'd expected, and all he wanted to do was slip quietly into bed sleep until morning. He slipped off his shoes, noting there was a light still on somewhere upstairs. 

"You're home late," Alex said from the top of the stairs, startling him. He hadn't expected her to still be up.

"I got held up in Virginia," he explained, walking upstairs to give her a kiss. "Westfield wanted to finish our discussion over some drinks."

"And you went." She turned her head and his lips glanced off her cheek.

"Of course," he shrugged. "We weren't done what we had to get done for today yet."

"That's a sorry excuse, Jack," Alex sighed, whispering so that she wouldn't wake the girls.

"I don't know what you want me to say, because it's not an excuse. He offered to put me up in a hotel room, but I wanted to get home to see how the girls were." They both had bad cases of the flu.

"Well, they're sleeping now, but they've been up almost all night," Alex snapped tiredly. "I'm surprised that you even knew they were sick. I was told that they couldn't get through to you on your cell."

"They left a message," Jack told her. "We were in meetings. I don't know what else you wanted me to do. It's not like my job lets me drop everything at the drop of a hat."

"But I'm still expected to walk out of committee meetings every time one of them gets sick at daycare?" she demanded.

"I don't expect you to walk out of committee meetings every time one of them gets sick!" he exclaimed in frustration. "You know Milbrandt and I have had this week's meetings planned for months. If I wouldn't have been out in Virginia, I would have taken them. You know I would have."

"If there was nothing else on your schedule," she retorted.

"Jack, this isn't just about today," she continued. "This is about every day. It's about you going to the office and leaving me to get them ready four mornings out of five. It's about me having to find interns and aides to watch them in the evenings and on weekends because something came up and you couldn't be home when you promised that you would be."

"We knew this would be hard right from the beginning," he pointed out, "but we've had the twins for three years now and it's not like these things are just starting to come up now." He made a show of checking his watch and sighing. It was two in the morning, he'd just gotten back from Virginia, and he had to be on the road by eight so that he could make another meeting in New Jersey. "I don't understand what the big deal is all of a sudden."

"The big deal is that every time something happens," Alex told him furiously, "I'm the one who winds up having to juggle my whole schedule. Whenever something happens, I'm the first call and you're always unavailable." She turned away from him, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.

Jack took a couple of deep breaths, trying to reign in his temper. He knew this wasn't the first time that Alex had had to hold conference calls in between carrying for the girls. "Things will look better in the morning, after we've both gotten some sleep."

"In the morning?" she repeated. "In the morning I've got to go in at six to try and catch up on everything that I didn't get done today. Then I've got to come back here so I can get the girls ready to go over to Josh and Donna's, where Joan has been kind enough to volunteer to watch them. But I've got to figure something else out for the afternoon because she has a class. And where are you? In New Jersey all day with Milbrandt meeting prospective Senate candidates!"

"Alex," he started, stepping toward her, "we're both trying to do everything that we can. This isn't a normal family; we don't seem to know how to do things the easy way."

"You can say that again," she whispered, still keeping her back turned.

"You're usually the first call because your office always has to know where you are," Jack explained gently, even though Alex knew it. "And you don't usually have to leave in the middle of the day; usually we can both manage to keep our offices functioning."

"I know," she responded, her voice cracking. She turned back around and Jack was shocked to see that she had tears rolling down her cheeks. He hadn't thought it was that serious. "It's just so hard sometimes," she added miserably.

He stepped toward her again, confused as to the turn the conversation had taken. "I know, Alli. But we're doing our best," he told her, reaching out a hand to draw her into an embrace.

"It's not going to get any easier," she declared, stepping into his arms.

"Once they're in school, it won't be quite as hard," Jack soothed her. "And everything's going to be that much easier once this next set of elections are over and done with." He was confident making that statement. Elections just caused trouble, especially in years that they were both trying to mount campaigns in different parts of the country.

If anything, she only started crying harder. "What is it?" he asked worriedly, concerned that there was something going on that she wasn't telling him.

She pushed away from him a little, but Jack didn't let her out of his arms. "I'm pregnant again," she whispered softly.

"You're what?" Jack asked in confusion.

"I'm…"

"Are you sure?" he said, cutting her off.

She nodded. Jack grinned widely. "That's wonderful," he breathed excitedly. "When?"

"Six months," she responded flatly. "March."

"Oh." He could see part of the reason why she was so upset. Unlike with the twins' birth, this time there would be no recess before the birth. And the post-Christmas slow period would long be over. It was mid-session and the situation that she had worried about last time was a near certainty; she would be put in the situation of having to miss a key swing vote. Not only that, but she'd have to give up any hope of being re-elected floor leader.

"I've been thinking about pulling out of the race completely," she confided. "I don't see how there's any other way."

"Pulling out?" he repeated. He knew her dreams and he knew how agonizing it must be for her to consider not running. If she didn't run in this election, she'd probably have to push back the primaries for at least another four years, past the three that they were already facing. And that was if she decided that she still wanted to run once the kids were older. All of the work that Josh and Toby put into planning would have to be completely redone.

"I really can't think of any other way for this to work. Things aren't like they were when you were with Herb. You can't work half-days or bring most of your stuff home. You're meeting people out of state. And I would never think of sending an infant that young to a sitter. I'd have to miss at least a quarter of a term and I can't responsibly do that."

"We could always bring someone in to look after them," Jack proposed, trying to synthesize everything at once. He was going to be a father again and he still hadn't wrapped his mind around that fact.

**-**

"Already tried that, remember?"

**-**

"Yeah, but this time we're really starting to get things off the ground," Josh protested. "There are only three years left."

"You point that out every chance you get, Josh," Donna complained, running the brush through her long, blonde hair. She was happy that her hair was blonde; it hid the grey that much better. "And it still doesn't change the fact that people aren't going to be willing to come and work for an unknown. Or do I need to remind you one more time of the trouble that I had when we were first starting?"

"I remember fine," Josh responded. "But that's why we've started looking already. This campaign is going to be unconventional by its very nature. People only know how to run the normal ones. Toby and I think…"

"Starting a sentence that way is a dangerous thing, Joshua," Donna interrupted. "The last time you started a sentence that way, we got lost and ended up in Pennsylvania."

"Toby and I think that we should start fresh, use people with experience, but not necessarily Washington experience," Josh continued, ignoring the interruption. "Instead of getting someone who can write political speeches, we're trying to find people who can present convincing or inspiring arguments and then teach them the politics that they're going to need.

"Toby's idea," Donna commented.

"It could have been my idea," Josh protested.

"It was Toby's idea."

"How come you don't think that it could have been my idea?"

"Because you never would have added the part about inspiring."

"I can be inspiring."

"I know you, Joshua," Donna stated. "And that was Toby's idea."

**-**

"I helped."

**-**

"I'm sure you did, Sam," CJ commented, wandering around the townhouse.

"I'll have you know that I have a very good eye for things like this," Sam declared, trailing behind her.

"And that's why you let Mallory pick whatever she wanted?" she asked, peering outside one of the windows.

"Yeah," he admitted unthinkingly. Immediately, he tried to correct himself, "I mean…"

"Too late, Sparky," CJ laughed. "And your wife has very good taste in housing."

"I know," he stated proudly, giving up the charade that he had picked out the place. "There's even enough room for me to set up an office upstairs."

"How soon do Toby and Josh want you to start?" she inquired sharply.

"They haven't really said too much yet," Sam told her. "I think that they need to involve Alex before they can proceed too much further. They've got outlines of plans more or less fleshed out, but it's still her campaign. She's the one who has to decide which scenario to use; she might not even use any of the ones that they've drawn up."

"And still they continue," CJ sighed. "Toby went out headhunting again last week. I'm sure that our house is a fire hazard because of all of his boxes of lists." She rolled her eyes.

"You wouldn't miss it for the world, would you?"

"No," she answered after a moment. "You?"

"Not on your life. This one is going to be a good fight."

"She's the real thing," CJ said softly.

"I didn't even need Josh's horrible poker face this time."

"Let's just hope that we can get everyone else to see it too."


	7. A Secret

**At the Close of Day**

**Most men and women, whether they admit it or not, have a desire to be remembered by history. Likely a few want to be notorious and a good number want to be famous, but most probably just want to know that their lives have not been lived in vain. They want to know that they have accomplished something beyond the day to day drudgery. They want to have made a difference, to know that they have left this world a better place for having been there.**

**But the measure of someone's contribution to the world can't be measured in terms of fame, or by counting how many times they make the papers, because, as Reinhold Niebuhr said, "Nothing worth doing is completed in our lifetime… Nothing true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate context of history… Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone…"**

**The difference between famous people and people who will do down in history is simple. The lives of famous people end with their death. Their fame and notoriety is pinned on their living events. Sure, they continue to be remembered after they're gone. But their work is ended.**

**The people who go down in history, they are the ones whose work is continued by others after they are gone. Their work is not the work of a mere lifetime, but rather the work of generations. They willingly shoulder a burden that is not theirs; they begin where others have left off and toil while they can. Then the burden is handed off to the next generation, for continuation.**

* * *

"What is it with DC and rain?" Milbrandt complained, coming through the door that connected Jack's office to his. "Without fail, every time I come back here from California, it's always raining."

Jack swiveled his chair around so that he could face his boss. "Good morning to you too," he commented dryly. "How was your trip? Aside from the rain, that is."

"Same old," Milbrandt declared. "It appears that they're going to elect me again."

"Congratulations," Jack offered after a second of hesitation.

"You don't seem nearly as excited as I thought you'd be. Aren't you glad to hear you're going to have a job for another six years?" Milbrandt asked casually, coming to take a seat in the chair before Jack's desk. His face showed that he knew what was coming.

"About that," Jack started awkwardly. "I don't know if I want a job for the next six years."

Even though he'd been expecting it, Milbrandt's eyebrows shot up into his thatch of silvery hair. "So I'm losing another chief of staff?" When Jack didn't answer right away, Milbrandt continued, "You know, the other senators are going to start making fun of me. I can't seem to keep a good chief of staff around for very long."

Jack cracked a small smile, the one that the senator had been fishing for. "You knew when you took me on that it wasn't going to be a retirement track job."

"I know," Milbrandt sighed. "But it hasn't even been four years yet and already I'm losing you. You guys can't possibly be getting ready for the primaries yet, especially not with the new rules, so why quit now?"

"Don't worry," Jack assured him, "we're not crazy enough to start primary stuff yet. And there's nothing wrong."

"Good, you had me worried there for a second. And Alex'll run a good campaign, one I'm looking forward to," he told Jack, "but now's not the time for it."

Jack nodded his agreement.

"But I've got to ask. If there's nothing wrong and you're not gearing up for the primaries, then why now?"

-

"Alex is pregnant again."

-

"Is this a joke?" Toby asked. "You have to be joking."

CJ reached out to whack him upside the head. "What kind of a comment is that? Of course I'm not joking. Why would I joke about something like that?"

"How did this happen?"

CJ raised her eyebrows at him. "You have to ask?"

Toby glared at her. "When did this happen?" he growled.

"June."

"She's been pregnant for nearly four months and no one bothered to tell us?" Toby grumbled. "They could have at least given us a courtesy call."

"She was keeping it a secret until she figured out how they were going to deal with a new baby in addition to everything else."

"You obviously found out," he pointed out.

"Yeah, well, Donna accidentally let it slip."

"How exactly did Donna find out?" Toby inquired.

"I think she might have overheard Sarah and Jeff talking about it."

"And they knew because…"

"Mark was having them do some research for him."

"Mark?"

"Yeah. Apparently he was helping Sam with a lecture series he's giving on the special problems that women face in politics," CJ explained.

"Sam's giving a lecture series about women in politics?" Toby questioned.

"Well, at the time he was planning on it, but I don't know if he is anymore."

"How'd Sam find out?"

"He was talking to Andi. And I guess that Alex had come to Andi looking for some advice."

Toby rolled his eyes and ran his hand over his head. "So, let me make sure I have this straight. It was a secret, which tends to imply that no one knew about it?"

"Yes," CJ confirmed.

"And no one knew about it?"

"Right."

"Except you, Donna, Sarah, Jeff, Mark, Sam, and my ex-wife," Toby stated.

"Well, and Ted," CJ corrected. "Ted was the one who suggested Alex talk to Andi."

"Other than me, and probably Josh, was there anyone else who wasn't in on this quote-unquote secret?" Toby asked pointedly.

"Well, Jack didn't know for a while, but I'm pretty sure that Alex has probably told him by now."

Toby closed his eyes for a moment. "Are we sure that this is even a fact and not one of those rumours that the tabloids like to print because they heard it from a friend of a friend of someone who might once have had coffee with something resembling a reliable source?"

"It's for real," CJ assured him. "And when they do finally call to tell us, act surprised. We're not supposed to know because…"

Toby interrupted her to finish the sentence.

-

"It's a secret."

-

"Okay," Joan answered, kneeling so that she was at the same eye level as the young girls. "I promise that I won't tell a soul."

"Cross your heart?" one of them inquired seriously. Joan was fairly certain that it was Becky.

Joan nodded solemnly, tracing an X over the left side of her chest. "And hope to die," she added solemnly.

The two girls looked shocked. One stepped back, her eyes round and her mouth open.

"It's just an expression," Joan explained quickly. "It means the same thing as crossing your heart."

The two of them looked at one another for a long moment. Joan recognized the silent form of communication; she was a twin herself after all. They must have decided that her explanation was acceptable because after a second of wordless conference, the one Joan thought was Abby stated, "We don't want the bunny to bring us a baby."

A look of confusion passed over Joan's face. "The bunny with the eggs is gonna bring us a baby, just like Santa brought us," Becky said, trying to clarify the situation.

"And then we're gonna move to the big white house," Abby continued. "But if the bunny doesn't bring us a baby, then we don't gotta move."

"But if the bunny doesn't bring us a baby," Becky picked up, "then Daddy still hasta go to work and he can't stay and play with us."

"We want Daddy to stay with us, but we like our little house."

Joan reached up to rub a spot near her ear, attempting to decipher what the girls were telling her. "Okay, let's see if I've got this right," she said after a second. "The Easter Bunny is going to bring you a baby." Two nods, so far, so good. "But you don't know if you want him to because then you'll have to move." More nods. "But if he doesn't, then your dad won't stay home with you."

"We'd rather have a puppy than a baby," Abby told her as gravely as only a three-year-old can.

"I don't think that you've got much choice," Joan sighed under her breath, wondering how best to explain everything. The girls were precocious, as was perhaps expected, but they were only three. They were too young to understand what the 'big white house' really meant.


	8. Chocolate

_"If it isn't Noah Lyman," someone called out from behind him._ _He turned, recognizing the voice but unable to determine who was speaking to him. "Are you still all gungho for education reform?"  
_

_"Um..." he stammered, completely unable to remember the name of the blonde woman who was standing before him. "I am, actually. I have been doing some work with the Congressional Education Commission."_

_"You don't remember me, do you?" the woman chuckled. "I'm Hillary Hoffman. I was one of Jack McCosham's aides for a while when he was with Clift."_

_Noah blushed red with the memory. "It's nice to see you again," Noah said, extending his hand to her. "I'm surprised that you still remember me."_

_ She lauhed again. "How could I forget? I took out one passage on education reform and you couldn't hardly concentrate on your dessert. It was the first and only time that I've seen a twelve-year-old more excited about school than chocolate cake."  
_

* * *

"Are you awake?" Alex asked softly, slipping back into bed next to Jack.

"I am now," he answered irritably, scrubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Nick must be back to sleep again. What do you want to talk about tonight?" he demanded, flipping over to face her. In the months since their youngest child had been born, this had become something of a nightly ritual. But it didn't necessarily mean that he enjoyed it.

"Do you regret leaving Milbrandt?" she asked quietly.

"Can't we talk about this in the morning?" he grumbled, pulling himself up into a sitting position and looking sleepily down at her. Although he appreciated the one-on-one time he got to talk to Alex, sometimes he wished that she could just go quietly back to sleep after she'd fed Nick. He was looking forward to the time when the baby would sleep through the night.

"Go back to sleep," she told him, putting a hand on his chest to push him back down to the mattress.

"It's okay. I'm up now." He yawned and scratched his head. "Do I regret leaving?" he repeated. "Maybe sometimes, but I don't like to think about it that way."

"How do you like to think about it?" she inquired, sliding sideways so that she could lay with her head in his lap.

"I'd rather think about the fact that I get to stay home and spend time with our kids. And you get to pursue your dreams."

"But what about yours?"

"I've already accomplished some of them," he answered, running his fingers through her hair. "And there'll be time for the others later," he assured her.

"You gave up a lot to marry me," she murmured, drifting off to sleep.

"All I gave up was a job with a convicted felon," he reminded her.

He waited for her to give some quick retort. When none came, he looked down to find that she was fast asleep.

-

"Well, how do you like that?"

-

"I think that I'd like it more if it were covered in chocolate," CJ commented.

"You like everything more when it's covered in chocolate," Toby retorted. "But somehow I think that little fetish is beside the point."

Sam's face instantly flushed red. "You guys, uh, want me to leave the room or something?"

Toby turned to glare at him. "I don't know what half-baked notion you've got in your head, but whatever it is, forget it. Now."

"So, you're not denying it?" he mumbled, unable to resist and unable to keep the picture out of his head.

"I will hurt you, Sam," CJ warned.

"And when she's finished, it'll be my turn," Toby growled. "There was no innuendo present. There is nothing to insinuate. There was nothing meant by the statement aside from the face value."

Sam held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Hey, I'm personally a fan of whipped cream." He refrained from mentioning that Toby had said the same thing three times.

Toby gave him a very definite warning look and took a menacing step in Sam's direction. "Come on," Sam protested. "It comes in the little cans and you can spray it directly in your mouth. I love any food that comes in aerosol cans. Except for maybe that fake cheesy stuff."

CJ sighed and shook her head. "Aside from whipped cream, I think that cheese stuff is the only other thing that comes in aerosol cans."

"Before this conversation deviates any further from its intended purpose," Toby broke in, "let's try to get through the rest of this speech. Or have you run out of ways to mangle the rules of English sentence construction and punctuation?"

"It's not really a speech, Toby," Sam corrected, an impish look in his eyes. "And we're not really even sure if we're ever going to wind up needing it. Has anyone thought to ask Alex in the last little while if she's still planning on running? We could just all be wasting our time trying to position her for an election she doesn't intend to run in."

Toby rolled his eyes. "You don't think that they would tell us if she decided that she wasn't going to run?"

Sam shrugged innocently. "I'm just saying. When's the last time that you got confirmation that she was still decidedly in this thing? In fact, when have you ever had her tell you that she was going to be running? I know that she's never told me explicitly."

"I think that Jack quitting is a fairly big indication that they're still in this thing," CJ pointed out. "I know that Alex considered dropping out when she found out that she was pregnant."

"She did what?" Toby exploded. "I can't believe that no one told us that our candidate was thinking of dropping out!"

"See what I'm saying?" Sam interrupted. "When's the last time that you confirmed that she was actually going to run? In fact, when have you ever had her tell you straight out that she is going to run for the nomination in three years?"

"It's understood that she's going to be running in three years. Josh and I have been making plans. We've been doing groundwork in Iowa. Jack's started looking at fundraising," Toby declared. "Someone would have told us if she wasn't going to run. Right?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know, but it seems like the only person not involved in this campaign yet is Alex. That is, if we even have a campaign." This was way too easy. Toby was usually much harder to crack; he must be getting soft in his old age.

Without another word, Toby stepped away, reaching for his cell phone. As soon as the older man's back had turned, Sam broke out in a wide grin, leaving CJ staring at him.

"Impressive, Sparky," she told him. "I thought that it would take you longer to crack him."

"Thank you," he answered proudly.

"Alex put you up to it, didn't she?" CJ demanded.

Sam sidestepped the question. "So, chocolate, eh?"

Despite her best efforts, CJ couldn't stop her face from turning red as Toby's voice carried over to them.

-

"Are you in this thing or not?"

-

"In what thing?" Alex replied sweetly, cradling the phone between her neck and her shoulder so that she could continue braiding Becky's hair.

"You know what thing I'm talking about," Toby said irritably. "Are you running or not?"

"Well, at the moment, I'm not running anywhere. I'm standing in one spot and braiding my daughter's hair," Alex responded, enjoying this moment a little too much. "And Jack's the serious jogger in the family, not me."

Toby sighed heavily. "How am I going to have to phrase this question to get a straight answer?" he asked, thoroughly exasperated.

"You could just ask me if I was planning to make a run for the White House in three years," she proposed. "Or you could continue to ask ambiguous questions that I, of course, will refuse to answer the way you want me to."

"Are you planning on making a run for the White House in three years?" Toby questioned obediently, obviously annoyed with the whole conversation. "Or have you just been misleading us as to your intentions?"

"You know what?" Alex retorted. "I don't think I'm going to answer that question either. But Becky has something that she wants to tell you."

"Alex!"

His yell was too late because the phone had already been passed over. "Nuh-uh, Uncle Toby," Becky laughed. "It's not Mommy."

"Could I talk to your mommy?" he asked, trying to not vent his anger on the little girl. "It's very important."

Becky looked up at Alex, holding the phone out to her. Alex shook her head no. "She says no."

"You had something that you wanted to tell me?" He had resigned himself to his not knowing, and resolved to make Sam pay for this somehow.

"Mommy said to say that she's not gonna run. She says that she's gonna win." Becky paused for a second. "How do you run for a house, Uncle Toby?"


	9. Democrats

**Wise Men at Their End**

**So far the rising of the new generation has been dealt with almost exclusively, with anecdotes of the previous generation being recounted as they interweave with the story. But the parallel process can't be neglected. Although we're surrounded every day with the evidence of the latest group of rising stars, every day old stars are taking their leave from public life. As the new generation steps up, the old is retiring. But I don't care for that 'turn of the phrase', as a speechwriter would say. It makes it seem to me as though the old generation is just shuffling off to quiet oblivion.**

**I can assure you that is not the case. Never has the old generation been content to merely step aside and let the new do what they will. We are not talking of men and women who simply put in their time at a nine-to-five job to earn enough to retire. Not at all. Instead these are men and women who have devoted the better part of their lives not to a profession or career, but rather to a cause. These are men and women who have sweated blood and shed tears in the course of their work. They will not step quietly aside.**

**Yet we cannot deny that there has been a changing of the guard. Ninety-six percent of this sitting of Congress was born after Nixon's presidency, and, amazingly enough, that statistic includes both the House and the Senate. The oldest sitting member is eighty and there are six freshman Congressmen and women that are under twenty-six. It is one of the youngest Congresses that this country has had, but it is only one in a long series of young Congresses.**

**But there is still much to be learned from the last generation and both generations realize that. While our elected representatives are growing younger, our civil service is growing older. This is not because youth are uninterested, but rather because the older members are staying and working longer than before. They are sharing their wisdom with those who will follow.**

**

* * *

**

CJ reclined on the couch, dozing lightly in front of a soap opera as she waited for Toby to get home. He had been out on yet another one of his ever-more frequent 'business' trips; he was still denying that he was headhunting, even though he'd given up pretending he was conducting any actual business long ago. When anyone dared to question him what he was doing, he'd just grumble something about having to wait until other people had started declaring their intentions.

But at the moment, CJ wasn't dwelling on any of those things. Instead, she was sleeping quite peacefully. Until the phone rang, jolting her awake, she was, for once, simply waiting for her husband to get home from a trip. It was a domestic scene that didn't play out very often in the Cregg-Ziegler household.

Even after the sound of the ringing phone had roused her from her dreams, it took her a minute to remember where she'd last seen the cordless. "CJ Cregg," she said briskly by way of a greeting when she'd finally located the handset.

"CJ." It was Toby and there was something strange about his voice. "Where are you right now?" he asked.

"In the living room," she told him, muting the television so she could concentrate on what he was saying. There was a lot of background noise and static. "Why?"

"Turn on CNN," he directed. "Josh just called and said that Lazlow's having a press conference. I can't find I TV in the damn terminal that's sowing it!" So it was annoyance mixed with an odd sort of elation that made his voice sound so different.

CJ's hand was instantly on the remote, changing the channel and turning up the volume. David Lazlow was an ancient Delaware senator who'd been soundly defeated in the last presidential primaries, not quite four years ago. To anyone who made it their business to know everything about the rapidly approaching primaries, it was common knowledge that he was going to be defeated again in this set.

CJ was just in time to catch the tail end of the broadcast. "With Senator Lazlow's announcement of the formation of a presidential exploratory committee, the race for the Democratic presidential nomination has officially begun," the man recapped. "The Iowa caucuses just months away, and similar announcements are expected from many of the potential candidates within the coming weeks. This is Wayne Ortega, reporting from the nation's capital."

She muted the sound again as CNN switched back to the studio. "He just fired the starting gun," CJ reported to Toby with a laugh. "Maybe now you'll stop pretending that you're going on business trips," she teased.

"They're calling final boarding for my flight," was his only reply.

Seeing as he wasn't being forthcoming with any information, CJ found she was forced to ask. "So, when can we expect Alex to hold a press conference like this? The filing deadlines are coming up pretty quickly."

"We're not having one," he responded, sounding rather too pleased with himself.

"You're not having one?" CJ demanded. "How are you planning to launch a campaign without a press conference."

"We'll have a press conference," Toby reported. "Just not one like this. We're not forming an exploratory."

"You're not forming an exploratory committee?" CJ questioned in surprise. Sure, people had done it, but not in the past twenty years.

"We don't need to explore whether or not we're going to run," he told her.

* * *

"We're running."

* * *

"Are you sure you're not rushing into this?" Donna inquired seriously. "I can't remember the last time someone declared without forming an exploratory committee first." 

"Santos and Rafferty," Josh informed her. "They were the last two."

"That was almost thirty years ago!" Donna declared.

Josh just shrugged, his ear-to-ear grin still plastered on his face. "What's the sense of wasting the time and money exploring if we're going to run? Those committees don't really do anything anyway. And under the new rules, there's not as much time to play around with stuff like that."

"They're a way for people to see if they've got the support base for a national campaign," Donna reminded him. She sighed, wishing that she had a better idea what he and Toby had planned. There was no telling what other ideas the two of them had come up with.

"We've got support," Josh declared confidently, giving no sign of the source of his assurance. Although Josh was always over-confident, he usually wasn't this cocky unless he had something to back his confidence up.

Donna waited patiently for him to explain himself. She knew that he wouldn't be able to keep this to himself for long. She was right.

"Joey agreed to use one of her contacts to set up a poll for us, one more for old time's sake," he told her. "Well, it was actually two polls conducted with similar sample bases. One was about policies. The other was about women's things."

"Women's things?" Donna retreated sharply, raising her eyebrows at him disapprovingly.

Josh tried to backpedal. "You know, finding out how people feel about women in higher levels of government."

"Have we reverted back to the eighteen-hundreds?" Donna interjected. "You had to ask that?"

"The majority of people we surveyed had absolutely no problem electing women to important government positions," Josh assured her quickly. He doubted it would do anything to placate her.

"The majority?"

Josh gulped a little, unwilling to reveal the number. "Well, with an error margin of a percentage point or two, sixty-two percent of respondents…"

"Sixty-two?" she interrupted. "The other thirty-eight percent of the people you surveyed would have had a problem electing a woman to an influential government position?"

"It's not so much that they'd have a problem doing it," he clarified reluctantly. "Most of them said that they'd just have to think twice before they'd do it."

"This isn't the turn of the last century, Josh," Donna pointed out angrily. "You'd think that we woud have made enough advances as a society that this kind of discrimination would be obsolete. We've been a country since 1776 and the only group of people elected president have been white males. Less than twenty percent of higher government officials are female. About the same percentage are visible minorities."

"Those numbers have gone up over the last fifty years," Josh stated eagerly.

"They've improved for minorities," Donna amended. "They're worse for women. There were more women involved in government back when Jed was president."

"We're trying to change that."

"That's the thing," Donna said. "It shouldn't have to be changed. Fifty percent of the population is female. Eighteen percent of the elected officials are women. No more than two-dozen women, including me, have ever sat as senators. Right now, there are only three female governors. We haven't made any progress over the past thirty years."

Josh stammered a little, trying to figure out exactly how he was supposed to react to something like that. "Um…" It was a promising beginning, he thought.

"Go and run this campaign, Josh," Donna directed him. "I've got a phone call that I need to make." She dug her address book out of her desk and started flipping through it, looking for a phone number that she rarely used. She didn't even look up to watch Josh leave.

The aide on the receiving end of the phone call answered swiftly. "You've reached the governor's office. May I help you?" the girl asked, her Southern drawl immediately apparent.

Usually she had aides place calls like this, but this wasn't official business and Donna wanted to do this herself. But she wasn't above using her position to get prompt service. "Yes, I'm calling from the office of the Senate Majority Leader. I was wondering if the governor had a few free minutes to speak with Senator Lyman."

There was a brief pause while the girl checked. "The governor is free whenever Senator Lyman would like to speak with her."

"Could you put the call through, please?" Donna asked. The girl complied quickly.

After only a few bars of tinny music, Donna was put through. "This is the governor," a familiar voice said. "How can I help you, senator?"

"Ainsley," Donna started.

"Donna, it's so nice to talk with you again," Ainsley drawled. "There's nothing wrong, is there?" The two women had stayed in touch, exchanging semi-regular phone calls, but they weren't as close as they had been. It would only be natural that her first thought was of disaster, especially with such an unexpected phone call.

"No," Donna reassured her. "But do you remember how we always used to talk about getting a woman in the White House?"

Ainsley laughed. "Of course, I do. All we've been waiting for is to have the right one, in the right place, at the right time."

"Well, it's happened," Donna informed her. "And we're going to need your help to get her there."

Ainsley laughed. "She would have to be a Democrat, wouldn't she?"


	10. Suggestions

"_CJ, thanks so much for being here today," Gordon told her. "It's been quite a few years since the last time you were with us here on the show. In fact, I think it was the last time you were hear promoting a National Book Award Winner: six years ago with Mark Goldstein's book High Flight."_

"_The pleasure to be back here with you is all mine," CJ told Gordon tactfully. In truth, no one liked being on Gordon's show, talking pseudo-politics._

"_Although Goldstein's book has faded from the public eye over the past few years, it's experiencing a resurgence in popularity, since Congresswoman Alexandra McCosham announced her campaign for the presidency. Why do you think that is?"_

"_His book has always been a fairly steady seller, and a special edition was published to commemorate the twenty-fifth anniversary of President Bartlet leaving office, not long before Alex made her announcement. Noah Lyman's recent book Do Not Go Gentle, which is sort of a companion piece to High Flight, has added more to the popularity of Mark's book than Alex's candidacy did."_

"_And is the Legacy that Goldstein's book spoke of still alive and strong or now that President Bartlet has been dead for nearly a dozen years, has his influence waned?"_

_At this question, CJ abandoned all of her sense of proper decorum in front of the cameras; she threw back her head and laughed, deep rolling chuckles that started at the very bottom of her feet. "President Bartlet's influence is every bit as strong now as it once was. All you have to do is look around! Alex McCosham, Mark Goldstein, Noah Lyman: all members of the Legacy. Ted Keegan in Congress. Zoey Young, recently appointed to the bench by a Republican president. The list doesn't stop; it just keeps growing."_

* * *

Jack stole silently out of Nick's bedroom, pulling the door shut behind him. The three-year-old had certainly developed a mind of his own and it was next to impossible to get him to stay down for an afternoon nap. But with the gathering that was planned for that night, a nap was essential; no one would be going to bed early.

"Finally got him to sleep?" CJ asked softly, passing him in the hall on the way back from the guest room that she and Toby had claimed as their own for the next few weeks. She was carrying a stack of yellow legal pads.

Jack nodded, checking his watch as the two headed together toward the stairs. "Yeah. He'll be dead to the world at least until the girls get home from school," he answered. "Is Alex home yet?"

CJ shrugged. "How am I supposed to know? Toby's had me upstairs digging through his file boxes since you decided that it was time for Nick's nap," she complained. "I'm not quite sure that he couldn't have gone up himself since he was the one who decided to dispense with a filing system that normal people would recognize and simply shove things into whichever box happened to be closest."

Jack laughed. He was often that way himself, much to the annoyance of every assistant that he had ever had. But he still had nothing on Josh. If Josh managed to find an assistant who would put up with him for more than three days, Donna tried to hold onto them any way she could; she knew firsthand just how difficult he was to work for.

"You may laugh now," CJ warned him, "but remember that revenge is a dish best served cold."

"Or maybe covered in chocolate?" Jack quipped, jumping the last few stairs to get out of CJ's range.

He was temporarily saved from CJ's wrath by Toby's strident bellow. "Did you find those damn lists yet?"

"Be quiet," she directed Toby, hurrying toward the dining room and mentally vowing to make Sam pay. "Or I'm sure that Jack will make you sing Nick back to sleep."

"You sing?" Toby questioned, looking at Jack and shaking his head sadly. "Man, have you ever gone domestic on us."

"I don't sing," Jack protested, crossing his arms firmly across his chest as he surveyed the masses of paper Toby had arranged on the table.

"Next thing you know, you'll have the little, pink, frilly apron tied around your waist," Toby observed wryly. "And you'll be baking girly cookies with matching frosting."

"This coming from the same guy that asked Becky if he could borrow her Sugar Plum Barbie?" Jack mused. "Or was it Abby's Sleeping Beauty Barbie?"

"Well, you know that was only because you were already using the…"

"Are you absolutely sure that you want to finish that thought?" CJ interjected, cutting her husband off. She stood near the table, her hands firmly on his hips.

"You two do realize that conversations like these are exactly what we're going to be fighting against trying to get the nomination, right?" Alex broke in, her stance mirroring CJ's.

"I guess that you heard the whole conversation?"

"Enough of it," she replied with a sigh. Normally, she would have loved to hassle the two men for the exchange, even the precious little that she had actually overheard, but she was serious. Those were the attitudes that they were going to be coming up against. Not only that, but they were running short on time. They'd had to reschedule this meeting a dozen times already, and now they were facing the start of a campaign without ever having looked at who they wanted to work on it.

"Shall we get started?" Alex asked, evaluating the mess that had been made of her dining room and mentally calculating how long it would take to make the room presentable for dinner.

Toby looked positively gleeful at the suggestion that they start. "Ideally, Josh should be here," Toby started, gesturing for them all to take seats, "but someone has to make sure the government continues to function."

"I think we can skip the introduction," CJ interrupted.

"The only other announcement we're expecting is Straithairn's," Toby began again, this time getting right to the heart of the matter. "But as Holmes proved, we can't predict everyone who wants in on this thing. People have been declaring right on the heels of one another; it's only been a week and a half since Lazlow started the ball rolling. We've got to get our campaign moving, quickly."

"How do you figure this race is going to play out?" Alex questioned, grasping a pen and flipping to a few blank pages at the back of one of the many legal pads. She started scribbling her own notes, not even waiting for anyone to answer her.

"What do you know about the other candidates?" Toby inquired.

"More about some than others," Alex admitted. "And probably not as much as I should about any. But that's why I keep you guys around," she teased.

Toby launched right into a summary of the playing field. "Andrew Milchan doesn't need to build the name recognition or grassroots organization in Iowa; he's still got those from when he was governor. That'll help deaden some of the impact of Iowa, but an unexpectedly strong showing from anyone else will give their campaign a jumpstart."

Alex nodded and allowed him to continue without interruption. "Oliver Feldman will probably take New Hampshire, more as a consequence of being from there than from having a national support base. The same things will hold for New Hampshire as for Iowa; losing won't be as big of a deal, but we're still going to need a strong finish."

"You don't have any reason to think that those victories are going to translate into national success?" Jack questioned.

"There's no telling for sure," Toby grudgingly conceded. "But I don't think that they have the national appeal they're going to need. Robert Sandell and Edwin Straithairn have much broader support bases already. Sandell can call on his work with the African-American lobby groups and Straithairn's been actively exploring this for so long that he's already unofficially amassed some of the support that he'll need. Those are the two that we're going to have to watch for."

"You're dismissing Holmes and Lazlow out of hand?"

"Lazlow's a fool," Toby declared vehemently. "He's too conservative for half of the Republicans. Quite frankly, I'm astounded that he's even managed to get elected to the Senate as many times as he has."

"I'd never heard of Steven Holmes until he had his press conference," Alex confessed. "He's the governor of Utah, right?"

Toby nodded, deliberately selecting a pad of paper from one of the stacks. "The candidates we can't do anything about," he declared, "but we have got to start assembling our campaign team. We're still aiming to pre-empt Straithairn's announcement, but you can't really start campaigning until we've at least started putting your people together."

Alex looked at the table with its piles of yellow pads and lists.

* * *

"I suppose that you have a few suggestions?"

* * *

"Who doesn't?" Josh replied with a grin. "But that doesn't necessarily mean that you should take them."

"But I should take yours?" Donna quipped, holding her cards closer to her chest so that Josh couldn't peer at them. "This in spite of the fact that you've lost the most money of any of us?"

He shrugged. "Apparently I've got a bad poker face."

"Your bad poker face is the whole reason that I got into this," Sam retorted, tossing a few more bills into the pot, matching Toby's bet.

"All I did was drag you away from a dead-end job at that law firm," Josh commented.

"And by dead-end, you mean a partnership at the second biggest law firm in New York," Sam noted.

"Come on," CJ teased, "you know that you wouldn't have had it any other way."

Sam pretended to think about it, but he knew the answer. "Would I give up having worked for a boss that never seemed to be satisfied with anything that I wrote?" he mused, looking up at Toby.

"How about the weeks where we slept at work more often than we slept in our own beds?" CJ chimed in.

"Or the assistants that refused to get you coffee?" Donna added, grinning over at Josh.

"Having to keep spare clothes in the office because we didn't know when we'd get the chance to go home and change."

"Spending weeks drafting a speech only to have to rewrite it in the last four hours."

"Bad pay."

"Horrible hours."

"Missed holidays."

"Cantankerous senators."

"Recalcitrant congressmen."

"I wouldn't trade a thing," Sam decided, a grin splitting his face. For a second, he looked just as young as he had the day Jed had taken his first oath of office, despite the white hair sprinkled liberally through the black.


	11. Still All This?

"_We can't blame him for everything," Jeff protested with a sigh. "He's doing the best he can."_

"_We can't blame him for everything," Sarah admitted, sinking back down onto the barstool and gulping down half her drink. "But can we at least blame him for this? Come on, please let me blame him for this."_

"_Well, if I knew what we were blaming him for this time, I might agree to let you," Jeff told her, tossing back the rest of his drink and motioning for another. "You never know, I might even want to take credit if we're blaming him for something good!"_

"_Blaming him for something good?" Sarah laughed. "Isn't that a contradiction in terms?"_

"_Not when you're talking about a Lyman it's not."_

_

* * *

_

Jack poured himself a cup of coffee, hoping that the caffeine would do double duty, both waking him up and relieving his hangover. He had had a few too many drinks over the poker game the previous night and while, he had enjoyed the drinks very much at the time, he was regretting them now. Still, he couldn't help but wince, very gingerly, as he imagined how badly Josh must be feeling. Donna hadn't guarded his 'sensitive system' as diligently as she usually did, and Josh had tried his hardest to match Toby drink for drink.

Draining his first cup, Jack poured himself more coffee, noting the strange silence that had settled over the house. He figured that Alex must have taken the kids somewhere because when he had finally managed to pry his eyelids open, her side of the bed had grown cold long ago. He was grateful because, as much as he loved his children, he knew that if they had been in the house, he would have been out of bed hours earlier, hangover or not. Such were the joys of parenting.

Determined to take full advantage of the rare moment of solitude, he wandered toward the living room, eagerly anticipating the chance to savor his coffee over CNN, with the volume kept sufficiently low, of course. But he was surprised to find Alex sprawled on the floor, sifting through the massive amounts of paper that Toby had left with her.

"Finally out of bed?" she asked brightly, grinning up at Jack and making no effort to keep her voice down.

Jack winced a little, motioning for her to be a little quieter. "You haven't hogtied the kids out back or anything, have you?"

"CJ and Toby were kind enough to take them off our hands for the morning," she informed him.

"Toby?" Jack repeated.

"He agreed on the condition that I was to spend the morning making a short list of names for several key campaign positions," she explained with a grin. As much of a soft spot as he concealed, Toby would never have volunteered to care for the three energetic children that early in the morning unless there was something he wanted as an end result. And that list of people, they needed desperately.

Jack nodded his understanding, crossing the room to sink down onto the couch. Leaning back, he lifted his feet onto the coffee table, only to have them swatted back down by Alex as he disturbed one of her stacks of paper. "How short is this list?" he inquired.

She shrugged. "I've already been through these two piles," she answered, gesturing to the stacks at her right. She hadn't made a significant dent in the sheer mass of information that Toby had supplied.

"And you've been at this for how long now?"

"A couple of hours."

Jack sighed and reached for the top few legal pads in the stack he had bumped with his feet. "Why don't you tell me what we're looking for?"

"I wish that I knew," she laughed. Then she grew more serious. "Just keep an eye out for anyone that catches your eyes, for any reason at all. Toby and Josh have already culled anyone they don't think has the experience or knowledge to help somehow. And Toby and CJ pared it down even more after we talked yesterday. Now we're down to a list of people who can help us run the kind of campaign we want to run."

Jack's eyebrows went up as he looked around at the number of pads still remaining, each one representing a potential staffer.

* * *

"After all of that, there's still all of this?"

* * *

Toby looked surprised that the hundred or so names that they had been left with that morning had only been reduced to about forty. He had obviously been expecting a short list that was considerably shorter.

Alex sighed. "These are the ones that we felt we had to take a closer look at, for one reason or another. But, if you've noticed, we did split them into primary candidates and secondary candidates for each position."

"We even managed to come up with a list of primary, primary candidates," Jack quipped. "Primarily, I figured that it made sense, seeing as how our primary purpose in this is to win the primaries."

"I liked you better when your hangover was still too bad for you to make puns like that," Alex groaned. "Why don't you go help CJ look after your kids?"

Toby waited expectantly, although not very patiently, for a moment. Then he growled, "I didn't spend the day being confused by your daughters and cross-examined by your son for you not to tell me who you're looking at!"

"Cross-examined by a three-year-old?"

"Damn kid wouldn't stop asking 'What that?' unless it was to ask 'How come?'" Toby grumbled affectionately.

Alex laughed. "Welcome to our lives, Toby."

"And I would assume that as a welcome gift you're going to give me those names?" Toby groused. "Or do I have to resort to threats? Because you know that I will."

"I also know that you won't carry through with them."

"Oh, really?"

Her only answer to that was a confident nod. "But, in thanks for all of the work that you've done compiling people for us, I'll tell you anyway," she told him with a grin. "Since you haven't gone to help CJ, you might was well take it away, Jack."

"Why do I have to act as Vanna?" Jack whined.

Alex shrugged. "You're the one who wanted to marry me."

Toby cleared his throat impatiently. "Whose neck do I have to wring to get those damn names?"

"Like we've been discussing, we can either move people over from my office onto the campaign, or we can start from scratch," Alex started.

"If we've been discussing it, then there's no need to re-iterate, is there?" Toby interrupted. "Just give me the names."

"Patrick Cohen."

"Studying for his PhD at Berkeley, specializing on women in government," Toby listed. "He probably won't be available until at least December, probably not until April."

"Thank you for the in depth commentary," Jack commented dryly. "That Coles' Notes version would have been appreciated on the top of the legal pad full of his information."

"Next," Toby demanded, glaring at Jack.

"Sarah for Communications and Jeff for Press Secretary."

There was only a terse nod from Toby. There was no yelling, so it was obviously a sign of approval, even though the two of them hadn't rated mention on his legal pads. It had, after all, been an almost foregone conclusion that the two of them would have places with the campaign, if they wanted them. The only question had been where.

"Richard Herzberg."

"He just landed a position with Randolph and Deason," Toby noted, naming the one of the top public relations firms in San Diego. "I've hope you've got a backup because you'll never get him," he stated firmly.

"James McNamara."

"McNamara?" Toby repeated, eyebrows rising to his non-existent hairline. "Josh managed to pull Sam away from Gage-Whitney, but there's no way that you are going to get McNamara. Who in their right mind would give up a six figure salary to come and work for nothing for an unknown…"

Alex just shrugged.

"So, let me get this straight," Toby said, passing his hand over his eyes and down over his beard, "you've got names for the big five positions, three of whom you've never met before. Of those three, two have jobs at well-known firms and one isn't out of school yet. And the two you do know might say no."

"Well, it doesn't sound very hopeful when you phrase it like that," Alex replied, grinning.


	12. Meeting People

**Forked No Lightning**

**When talking about politics, the little victories often get shuffled off to the side and forgotten as the big battles rage on around them. It is the big battles, after all, that draw the most attention and the most resources. Everyone has a position on the big issues, on abortion and on the definition of marriage, but the 'little' things, the things that keep our government functional and our country moving forward, are not so black and white. And they're really not so little.**

**Education and health care are more important to the lives of average Joe American than euthanasia or capital punishment, but the headlines are not reserved for these things. It is much rarer, therefore, to have a candidate define themselves on the issues of immigration and foreign policy than it is for candidates to come out as pro-choice or anti-deficit. But these things, so often swept under the radar by the polarizing issues, are the most vital.**

**These 'smaller' issues may 'fork no lightening' in their debates, but they are what will define the future of our nation and are what will ensure that America continues to grow. Candidates don't come into Congress or into state legislatures to solve the little problems. They want to solve the big ones. But thrust into the little issues, the ones that shape our nation, some people find their true callings. And those people rise up above the rest, floating on a million little victories to the point where the great victories can come to them.**

**

* * *

**

Alex rapped lightly on the half-closed door, reaching up to push an escaped strand of hair back behind her ear with her other hand. She hoped that the secretary had given her the right office number; she didn't want to both more people than was strictly necessary, especially when she was trying to be inconspicuous.

"The sign's on the door," a voice responded shortly. "My office hours don't start for another half an hour." It was obvious that he had already been disturbed several times that morning.

Undaunted, Alex knocked again, this time calling out to make sure she was in the right place. "Mr. Cohen?"

She heard the creak of a chair and knew that the office's occupant was coming to the door this time. "I know that you have papers due this week," the man said. By not correcting the name she had called out, he had at least provided Alex with the assurance that she was in the right place. He continued, "But I have work that I need to do too." He pulled open the door as he finished the last statement. It was immediately apparent that Alex wasn't what he had been expecting to find on the other side of the door.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you, Mr. Cohen," Alex apologized while the man tried to get his bearings back. "But I was wondering if you could spare a few moments of your precious time for a quick word."

"Of course," he replied, blinking a few times in confusion, almost as if he were trying to place her face. "I'm sorry about the mess," he continued, stepping out of the way so that she could enter the tiny office. He hurried to move a stack of books off of the spare chair so that she had a place to take a seat.

"It's fine," she assured him lightly. "I was a grad student once upon a time; I understand how quickly research and papers can build up inside an office." She lowered herself down to the proffered chair, reflecting that Congressional offices really weren't that much different. But she didn't want to bring that up, at least not yet.

As he walked around to the other side of the cluttered desk and sank down into his own chair, Alex offered him her hand. "Mr. Cohen," she started.

"Please," he interrupted, "it's Patrick."

Alex's polite smile widened to a grin. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Patrick," she began again. "I'm Alex McCosham. I don't know if…"

"I know who you are," he interjected, taking her hand and giving it a firm, if over-enthusiastic, shake. "Bartlet scholar, D.Phil. in International Relations from Oxford, six-term representative from the Rhode Island First…" His voice trailed off and he blushed, realising that she was likely intimately familiar with her own résumé.

She laughed, telling him, "That's right." He was visibly relieved to see that she was laughing at his exuberance.

"But I'd like to be known for something else too," she added, leaning toward him earnestly. "I'd like your help to do that."

"I'm not quite sure if I know what you mean, Congresswoman," Patrick said slowly, confusion battling with realization on his face.

"I'm not sure if you've heard rumours, but I'm in the market for some campaign staff," Alex explained. "I'm planning to declare my candidacy for the Democratic presidential nomination within the week."

Patrick nodded. "We've heard the rumours, even out here in California." He was smiling, but it was obvious that he still hadn't quite finished putting all of the pieces together to figure out exactly why Alex was sitting in his office. "It'll be quite a campaign. Hopefully I'll be able to do some of my post-doc work on it."

"One of the papers that you published last year came to the attention of one of my friends," Alex started, unsure of what phrasing to use to tell this young man that he could do work on the campaign that was far less academic than the work he was picturing.

She needn't have worried. With that last statement, it was almost as though the proverbial light bulb had gone on in his head. "Toby Ziegler," he said in shock, sitting back in his chair with the weight of the realization.

Alex nodded solemnly, her grin lighting up her face.

* * *

"I don't suppose that I could entice you to join the staff, could I?"

* * *

Sarah threw back her head and laughed. "Jack, you're incorrigible!"

"Is that a yes or a no?" Jack asked, roguishly sticking his tongue out at her. He was positive that he knew what her answer would be. Jeff, sitting silently at Sarah's side, thinking deeply, was more of an enigma. He could go either way. Jack wasn't sure if he would accept a campaign position, if he would try to continue on at the Post, or if he would rather look for another job entirely.

"It's your fault that I've been transferred off the political beat," Sarah accused lightly. "The absolute least you can do is give me another job."

"Welcome to the team," Jack told her. "When can you start?"

It was going to be tricky trying to launch a campaign with only minimal staff; they had left selecting outside staff until rather late in the game and then had proceeded to pick people who were busy with other things. Toby hoped that by skipping right to announcing their candidacy, they could take some of that pressure off. But Alex was about the only person who actually seemed to believe that that would be the case.

"I'll give the Post my notice as soon as I get back this afternoon," Sarah stated. She was absolutely beaming. It was blatantly obvious that she was looking forward to the upcoming campaign just as much as any of the others. Watching her now, it was hard to believe that before she met Jed, Sarah had been absolutely apathetic about anything to do with politics.

"How about you, Jeff?" Jack inquired, trying to keep some of the enthusiasm out of his voice. They'd all known Jeff since just before the Congressional scandal first broke, but he had never really been a member of their inner group.

"I don't know," he replied. "I figured that something like this would be coming, but I'm still a little shell-shocked. All my life, I've ever wanted to do was be a reporter; I've never even thought about doing anything else. I need to think about this for a while."

"You can think about it all you want," Jack assured him. "Alex wanted me to make sure you know we're not going to approach anyone else for the position until you've made a decision one way or the other."

"Thanks," Jeff replied. "You're planning to announce on Monday, right?" he asked. Jack nodded his affirmation. "I'll let you know by Friday," Jeff promised.

* * *

"We'll be looking forward to hearing from you."

* * *

Satisfied that he had managed to secure another new client for the firm, James McNamara hung up the phone, scribbling a few final notes on his legal pad before looking up to acknowledge his waiting secretary. "Is my three o'clock here?" he asked brusquely. 

She nodded. "The representative is waiting. Should I send her in?"

He sighed, gathering up the papers he had been making notes on and passing them off to his secretary. "I might as well get this over with so that I can get back to some productive work. The last thing I need is another whiny Congresswoman trying to protect herself against another scandal." He rolled his eyes, clearly showing his contempt for that particular breed of politician. "Which one is it this time?" It was obvious that the name was inconsequential.

"Alexandra McCosham," the secretary replied, hurrying out of the office to send Alex in.

A strange look passed across his face as he recognised the name and realised that perhaps this meeting was likely going to be different than he had originally anticipated.

"Congresswoman," he said, standing to formally greet Alex as she entered the office. His 'courtroom' face had made an appearance and he was unreadable.

"Mr. McNamara," she responded lightly, stepping across the office to offer the lawyer her hand.

He grasped it firmly, making it clear that he was evaluating her. "I'm pleased to welcome you on behalf of Gage-Whitney," he started, motioning for Alex to take a seat. He had a set routine developed for meetings like these and his curiosity was no reason to deviate from that script.

"Unfortunately for Gage-Whitney, I'm not here looking for legal representation," she declared frankly, her eyes meeting his calmly for a moment. Then she smiled and let her eyes wander up and down his form, making it clear she was conducting her own evaluation of him.

He found it slightly unsettling, especially when she didn't continue past that first statement. He waited for a moment, but found himself having to make the next move. "If you don't need representation, how can I help you then?" he finally asked, leaning back in his chair. "I know for a fact that this meeting could not have been easy for you to arrange, especially on short notice."

She gave him a sudden grin. "Both easiness and importance are relative terms, Mr. McNamara. But I'm sure that you've discovered that in the course of your work."

He was suddenly struck by the similarity of the conversation to a chess game. Each word was so lightly spoken and yet so carefully weighted. He quirked an eyebrow at Alex, deciding to go with the flow of the conversation, if simply for the sake of amusement. "Their relativity is something most lawyers learn early on," he noted. "Good lawyers are the ones who learn that they're not necessarily mutually exclusive."

"The same holds for politicians," she observed. She saw the way the corners of his lips tightened slightly. "I see you have no great love of politicians," she noted glibly, willingly passing the offensive off to him.

He seized it with a ruthlessness that he was unaccustomed to from himself. He had been trained to be more cautious in such situations. "The experience I've had with politicians hasn't been the most pleasant sort. It seems to me that people who need protection from scandals have no business being the leaders of our nation in the first place."

Alex refrained from commenting on the fact that he made his living ensuring that those same people were able to continue serving in the positions of power. Instead, she asked a far more relevant question. "What about the ones who don't need protection?"

His mouth twitched upward into a smile, despite himself. It seemed as though the offensive was perhaps no longer his. Surprisingly, he didn't mind. "With specializations in Constitutional and legislative law, practicing at a well-known law firm in the aftermath of the biggest political scandal in the history of the country, I don't have a lot of opportunity to encounter politicians like that."

He paused for a moment, and then added, "Although someone in my position might be justified stating that there are no politicians who don't need protection and that the ones that think they are safe are fools."

"Touché," Alex responded, flashing another grin at him. "But your first statement tends to lead me to think that you still believe that honest politicians exist."

"I have no doubts that they once existed," he admitted. "But I don't know that they still do. I haven't seen a lot of proof that they're not an extinct breed." He tilted his head toward her, clearly inviting her response.

"And if an opportunity to prove that they still do were to arise?" she questioned eagerly, leaning forward.

He deliberated for a moment, considering his next move. "Well, I'd have to say that, depending on the circumstances, such a situation would bear further consideration."

"I see that you haven't lost all of your faith yet."

He wasn't sure what gambit she was using, or even what her objective was. His eyes drifted across his desk, landing on his clock. "Your time with me is running short, Congresswoman. Enjoyable though this is, maybe you'd like to get to the point?"

"May I ask a blunt question?" she asked.

"You can ask anything you want," he declared with a shrug. "It doesn't mean that I'll answer."

"Why did you specialize in Constitutional and legislative law? I'm assuming that it wasn't so that you could protect people that you so clearly detest from legal difficulties that they so richly deserve."

"What reason does anyone do anything for?" he questioned. "In my naïve youth, I guess I thought that I could make a difference."

"And if someone told you that you could?"

So, they were still playing chess. Or maybe poker was a better comparison. "Then either they're a fool of the worst sort," he said, waiting to see if she would lay her cards on the table.

"Or?" she prompted.

"Or they're the sort of fools that deserve more time to make their case."

He reached across his desk to press the button on his intercom. His hand hesitated for a split second as he decided. "Jeanette, could you push back the rest of today's appointments? Unfortunately I'm going to be tied up in this meeting for a while longer."


	13. Three Months

"_Bet you wish that Bartlet's coattails had lasted a little longer."_

"_**President** Bartlet's **legacy** is plenty big enough," Josh snapped back._

"_Wasn't big enough for you to elect Santos and McGarry," the man replied._

"_I would have to find the one Republican in Hawaii," Josh mumbled, gripping the neck of his beer a little tighter._

"_Didn't catch that," the man said, even though it was clear that Josh had been talking to himself._

"_I said that…"_

"_He said that he was lucky enough to find the one person on this beautiful beach willing to discuss politics with him," Donna broke in diplomatically. "I'm Donna Moss-Lyman, and it's a pleasure to meet someone willing to go head to head with my husband."_

"_Senator Lyman," the man said, offering his hand to her. "It's my pleasure. I'm Anthony Namura. I'm running for Congress this term."_

"_Well, good luck," Donna told him._

"_Don't wish him luck," Josh hissed. "He's a Republican."_

_----------------------------------------------------------------------------_

"The damn plane landed twenty minutes ago," Toby grumbled. "Why haven't they let the passengers off yet? Getting a Supreme Court Justice confirmed doesn't take this long!"

"Gee, Toby," Jack commented, "do you and my wife have something going on that I should know about? You're more anxious to see her than I am."

"You mean something other than the sordid love affair?" Josh quipped, edging away from Toby. He didn't want to be within swinging distance in case Toby decided to retaliate.

"Oh, I've known about that for years," Jack replied, eyeing Toby warily. "I meant something more serious."

"Like what?" Josh inquired, grinning over at Toby. He decided he was standing far enough away to dial up his grin a few notches without fearing retribution.

"I don't know," Jack responded. "Maybe something like a secret presidential campaign," he tossed out glibly, raising an eyebrow at Toby.

"It won't be a secret for much longer if the two of you don't shut up," Toby growled, watching eagerly as the first passengers finally started to deplane.

"It has to be the worst-kept secret I've ever heard," Jack noted. "It's really not much of a secret at all."

"I think I've heard a worse-kept secret," Toby retorted dryly. He nodded as Josh mouthed 'Nick' to him behind Jack's back.

"That's hard to imagine," Jack laughed.

"It's not as hard as you'd think," Josh commented, eagerly scanning the crowd for any sign of Alex.

The three men saw her coming down the terminal at the same moment. They started to hurry toward her, too anxious to stand back and wait for her to reach them. Her face broke out in a wide grin as she saw them. They'd all been too impatient to find out how she'd made out.

"Look," she said lightly, leaning over the security barriers to place kisses on all three of their cheeks, "if it isn't my boyfriend, my lover, and my husband, all come to meet me. I'll leave you three to fight about who's who."

"Don't say that so loudly," Josh admonished. "You'll have some quack overhearing and then reporting it to the tabloids. The next thing you know, the entire campaign will have been derailed because of that one little joke."

"Shut up," Toby told Josh. "We don't want any more leaks about a campaign until we've had the chance to actually launch it. And the last thing we need is someone overhearing you giving political advice to her in the middle of a crowded airport!"

"Well, if we can't talk politics, why'd we come all the way to the airport to meet her?" Josh whined.

"Because you missed me?" Alex suggested, starting off toward the exit. She was as eager to talk politics as the others. The sooner they got out to the car, the sooner they could start.

"You were only gone for two days," Toby pointed out.

"If I was only gone for two days, then surely we can wait until tomorrow to talk shop, right?" Alex commented blithely.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I don't know if I'd take it that far."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"But we've finally got a reason to take it that far," Josh refuted happily, looking around at the gathered group. "We're getting this started at last. Why shouldn't we go that far?"

"Why not?" Toby repeated incredulously, shooting to his feet. "Because we're still running a national campaign out of our home offices!" he burst out. "Because it's less than three months until Iowa and we're just getting started. That's why."

"There's a simple solution to at least one of those problems," Sam interjected before Toby had a chance to continue his rant. "We could always just rent out some office space somewhere," he stated logically, hoping that it would help to defuse Toby somewhat. It was a vain hope.

"But we don't have any staff!" Toby exploded. "We've arranged a press conference, but we don't have a press secretary. We're giving the first major speech of the campaign without a speechwriter. We're launching a national campaign without a campaign director, a communications person, a volunteer co-ordinator, or any of the other people you need to run a campaign. But, you know, at least one of those doesn't cause a problem because we don't have any volunteers. Quite frankly, it's amazing that we even have a candidate!"

"Toby, you and Josh have been planning this campaign for an obscene number of years, why the hell didn't you get any of this stuff figured out before?" CJ demanded.

Josh shrugged. "I guess we forgot to factor in the new rules," Josh explained. "Lazlow declared on the first day that he could under the new rules, and we weren't ready for it."

"This is the first set of Democratic primaries since the new rules took effect," Jack pointed out in their defense. "None of us knew what to expect. And we're not in that bad of a shape. We have a confirmed staff, they just don't work for us yet. Our war chest is in pretty good shape considering we haven't been legally allowed to fundraise for a presidential campaign outright."

"But it didn't cross anyone's mind that the first day anyone could announce anything related to the race was the day that Iowa allowed filing?" Donna inquired, her eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"It crossed our minds," Josh admitted. "But Jed declared late and Santos declared late. I guess we thought it wouldn't matter."

"And now you're freaking out about it," Donna noted.

"We're not getting anything productive done here," Alex piped up. "All we're doing is rehashing things that it's too late to go back and fix." She pushed herself to her feet, walking toward the doorway, intent on leaving the room.

"Wait a minute," Josh called after her. "Where are you going?"

"We've got a lot of stuff to do," Jack reminded her.

"Ten point plans are all well and good," Alex replied, "but I'm going into the dining room, where I'm going to start doing some real work. Plans don't translate themselves into reality and we don't have a lot of time left." Without another word, she walked out of the room, leaving the others sitting behind her.

Toby was still muttering beneath his breath when Sam and Donna got to their feet and followed Alex out of the room. CJ and Jack followed after a second. CJ turned in the doorway so that she could look back at Josh and Toby. "We might not have a permanent campaign staff yet," CJ told them, "or much of anything for a campaign, but we do have a candidate. I'm willing to do whatever it takes."

"She's the real thing," Sam added, doubling back to stand beside CJ. "And Josh, this time I don't need your poker face to know it."

The two walked off down the hall, leaving Josh and Toby sitting alone. "You know," Josh commented, "I was so busy planning this campaign that I think I forgot that we still had to run it."


	14. Changes

**The Last Wave By**

**The end of anything is a difficult concept to consider. Change is something that people fear, with or without good reason. Change is unsettling. It involves leaving the status quo for something different, something new. But change is necessary. Without change, nothing moves forward, nothing improves. Without change there is only stagnation.**

**Change involves a shift from endings to beginnings as a matter of definition. Sometimes the shift is toward the end. Sometimes it's toward the beginning. But it's always there. The only thing that never changes is change itself.**

**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**

"Couldn't sleep?" Toby asked.

Alex jumped, whirling around to peer into the darkness of the den. "Toby?" she asked, sounding more than a little startled.

Toby reached out to turn on the lamp, answering, "Yeah. Take a seat."

Alex obeyed wordlessly, stepping into the room and sinking down into one of the two easy chairs. The overstuffed chairs were like echoes of the big leather recliners that had once inhabited Jed's library back at the Manchester house. The two chairs were even arranged in the same way, framing the fireplace. They'd been arranged that way on purpose.

"So, you couldn't sleep?" Toby repeated, even though the question itself was obviously superfluous.

Alex nodded solemnly, leaning back into the chair. "There's way too much going on inside my head right now for me to even try."

"That's understandable," Toby told her. "You are, after all, on the brink of making a decision that'll change your life irrevocably. There's no coming back from something like this."

"Thanks for that," Alex answered testily. "Because I'm not scared enough already."

"What's there to be scared about?" he demanded.

"What isn't there to be scared about?" she countered with a derisive chuckle.

Toby shrugged noncommittally. "You tell me," he said, sinking deeper into the chair and crossing his arms over his chest as he waited. He was still in his shirtsleeves; he obviously hadn't been to bed yet either, probably waiting up in anticipation of the conversation.

Alex sighed and dropped her head down into her hands. "What if this is all for nothing?" she asked. "What if after everything, we're no further than where we are now?"

"Then we try again in four years. And if that doesn't work, we try again after that. And we keep trying until something finally works," Toby replied firmly. "I've been a professional political operative all of my life, but until Jed Bartlet came along, I hadn't won a single election. Not one."

"What was different about Jed's campaign?" she asked quietly.

"He was the real thing," Toby declared. "And so are you. We've just got to show that to the rest of the country."

"How can you be so sure?" she whispered uncertainly.

Toby just shrugged. "It's one of those intangible things that can't be explained. It's like knowing when a pie is cooked. Or what clothes need to be washed in cold water."

Alex raised her eyebrows wordlessly at him.

"Fine," Toby ceded, "those aren't the best examples."

"No," Alex agreed with a laugh, "I don't think so."

"Well, it's like how you know you love someone," Toby supplied gruffly after a second.

"Okay," Alex answered thoughtfully. Toby didn't reply immediately and the two lapsed into silence.

"You know, you can still back out of this thing," Toby reminded her after a minute had passed. "It's not too late."

Alex sat quietly for another moment, her mind a million miles away. She was silent for so long that Toby started to finger the cuff of his shirt, starting to wonder if she would, in fact, decide that she wanted to withdraw from the race before they'd even had a chance to fire the starting gun.

Then she leaned forward, her face set. She'd made her decision.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Let's do it."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Pace yourself, Joshua," Donna chided lightly. "You haven't even gotten out of bed yet."

"Donna, this is going to be the biggest presidential election in the history of presidential elections," Josh responded excitedly, throwing off his blankets and bounding out of bed. It was moments like this when he didn't look a day of his sixty-five years. "Today is the start of it all."

"I'm sure that no one will start anything without you," she answered indulgently. "Even if you do take the extra twenty minutes that shaving and showering will take."

"Yeah, but we've got people to pick up at the airport. And make sure we're at the restaurant on time for breakfast. Toby and Sam are still adding things to the speech and we've got to make sure they finish on time," Josh listed as he headed toward the bathroom.

"I thought that Alex's parents drove in from Rhode Island last night," Donna commented, moving at a much more leisurely pace as she slid her feet into her slippers.

"They got in late last night," Josh told her around his toothbrush.

When he didn't volunteer any more information, Donna's curiosity got the better of her. "Then who exactly are we picking up at the airport?" she asked. "Both of Jack's parents died years ago."

"Well, in spite of all Toby's ranting about us not having any staff with which to launch a campaign…"

"We're going to have a staff after all," Donna cut him off, laughing. "Have you told Toby yet?"

Josh shook his head happily, a huge grin on his face. "I thought it would be funnier if they just showed up at breakfast."

"You organized this on your own?" she questioned incredulously, her eyebrows raised in surprise. "And managed to keep it a secret from everyone?"

"Well, Sarah got in touch with everyone and made sure that they could get time off. And CJ co-ordinated the travel plans," Josh admitted.

"So, in other words, the only thing that you're responsible for is picking them up at the airport?"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Well, if you want to look at it that way…"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I don't see how there's any other way to look at it," Sam protested. "We've only got three hours before she's got to give this speech, Toby."

"That doesn't matter," Toby protested, rolling his eyes. "I still don't like this section here. It just doesn't sound right. It sounds like something I would have written into Jed's farewell address, not like something we want to say when we're declaring candidacy for the presidency." Toby sighed and ran his hand down over his face. "We've got to rewrite it. Not just that section, but the whole thing."

Sam echoed the sigh and hit the delete key on his laptop. "Fine," he conceded. "But I have no idea where to start over."

Toby leaned back and crossed his arms. "Unfortunately, that makes two of us."

Sam shook his head and took off his glasses, tossing them down on the table. "Three hours, two writers, and one unfinished speech," he declared, staring at the cursor blinking on the blank computer screen.

"Would you mind if I had a try?" someone from behind them asked nervously.

"Be my guest," Toby growled without turning around to see who it was. "Right now, a monkey with a typewriter could do better. I think that even Josh could do better at this point."

"Where is Josh anyway?" Sam inquired. "I thought he would have been the first one here this morning."

"Mea culpa," the voice said. "He would have been earlier, but my flight in from LA was delayed because of the weather."

Finally Toby and Sam turned to see who was standing behind them. Sam stared blankly at the stranger while Toby's eyes widened in surprise as he recognized the college student he'd interview and that Alex had recruited. "Three hours, three speechwriters, and one speech," Toby corrected.

"Patrick Cohen," the young man said, extending his hand to Sam. "I don't believe that we've met yet."

"Sam Seaborn," Sam answered returning the handshake firmly. Then he turned to Toby, still sitting at his side in a state of shock. "And you didn't think that we'd have any staff," he commented wryly.


	15. Judgment Day

"_Happy anniversary," Charlie said softly, reaching out across the table to brush a strand of Zoey's hair back._

"_It's not our anniversary," Zoey replied. "Our anniversary isn't for months."_

"_Not our wedding anniversary," Charlie told her. "A different one."_

"_First kiss? First date? First date without the Secret Service?" she guessed, smiling at him, candlelight dancing across her face. She'd wondered at the romantic setting she'd come home to find, but she'd learned not to question until Charlie was ready to tell her._

"_Nope," Charlie answered, pouring out some more wine for both of them._

"_Then what?" she demanded impatiently. "Or do I have to start treating you like a hostile witness?"_

"_Today's the anniversary of the day I bought your engagement ring," he told her, reaching into his pocket and setting a velvet box on the table._

_Zoey laughed. "I think you were just looking for the opportunity to open a bottle of good wine and ogle me in the candlelight." She stopped as she saw the jewellery box._

"_I picked it out last week, but I bought it today," Charlie told her. "I was going to wait for our anniversary to give it to you, but I couldn't wait."_

"_The Democratic convention was two weeks ago," Zoey noted. "That means you bought the ring two weeks after…"_

"_After your dad caught in outside your bedroom in the Residence?" Charlie finished. "Yeah. And after I told him we'd been sleeping together for a while and accidentally asked him for permission to marry you."_

"_How…"_

"_Let's just say that it wasn't a conversation I wanted to have, and especially not in the Oval Office."_

-------------------------------------------------------------

"The day we picked to hold our press conference would have to be the first rainy day in a month," Toby grumbled. "And we couldn't have scheduled it indoors. Oh, no, we had to put it on the Capital steps. Imagery obscured by precipitation."

"Patrick and I are California boys," Sam teased, draping a brotherly arm around Patrick's shoulders. "We shouldn't have to deal with this kind of thing; it's why we grudgingly consent to keep you New Englanders around."

Patrick smiled shyly, glad to have been accepted into the tight-knit group of former Bartlet staffers. Although Toby was still complaining about the student's lack of verb tenses, he'd praised his proper grasp of punctuation a few times. Even though he knew Toby was just trying to annoy Sam, he hadn't been able to stop himself from flushing with embarrassment as his eyes flashed with pleasure.

This was judgment day. CJ was imparting wisdom to an extremely nervous Jeff, giving him tips for briefing a group of people that had been his fellow political reporters until he'd been transferred off politics only a few weeks ago. She knew it was impossible to tell him everything in the few minutes they had left before it all began, but she was doing her best to reassure him; there wasn't time for anything else. Besides, briefing the press was something that he was just going to have to learn on his own.

People were gathered in excited clusters, nervously playing with their closed umbrellas. Alex's parents had just called to let her know they were walking over from their car. Fellow Congressmen were stopping by to wish Alex well and give her their support. And the people who were most involved were exchanging triumphant looks with one another. They knew how hard it had been to just get this far. And despite how much there was still to come, they knew it was a victory just to have made it this far.

Jack had disappeared somewhere to deal with a few last minute logistical difficulties, leaving Alex alone to wrestle all three kids into their proper outerwear. Although the six-year-old twins usually loved dressing up in their matching crimson jackets, today they were much more impressed with the full skirts of their blue dresses, and Nick had decided that he was 'never ever going to wear his sailor jacket ever again.'

Even with Sarah and Donna helping Alex, they weren't making much progress. "Becky," Sarah pleaded, "if you don't put your jacket on, you're going to get your pretty dress all wet."

"That won't happen," Becky declared seriously. "Uncle Sam said that he was going to share his umbrella with us." She twirled around happily, watching as her skirt billowed out around her. "He said that the umbrella would keep all of the rain off."

Sarah glared across the room at Sam, where he stood with Patrick and James McNamara, two of the newest additions to the team. "Well, then Uncle Sam should be the one to help you on with your jacket," she suggested irritably.

"But we don't need help with our jackets," Abby told Sarah. "We just don't want to wear them." And she skipped off, leaving Donna standing behind her, red jacket in hand.

Becky squirmed her own way out of Sarah's reach and scurried away to join her sister hiding beneath a desk. Giggles from the two girls rose from beneath the polished wood as they listened to their four-year-old brother argue with their increasingly frustrated mother.

"Nikolai Ivanovich," she said firmly, "if you don't put this jacket on right now, you're going to have to stay here all alone while the rest of us go outside to see all of the nice people out here."

"Fine," Nick replied, crossing his arms. "I don't wanna go outside anyway."

Alex threw her hands up in the air, completely frustrated with her attempts to get her children to co-operate. "I give up," she declared.

"Mind if I try?" Patrick asked. "I've got a couple of little brothers back home."

Alex willingly surrendered the jacket. "Go ahead," she told him. "I hope you have better luck than I've had." Giving up on Nick completely, she sighed and started toward the desk the twins were sheltering under, hoping to have slightly better luck with the girls.

To her surprise, James McNamara had already lured them out with promises that he would take them out for ice cream sundaes after the press conference if they behaved themselves. He shrugged at Alex as he helped first one girl and then the other into their coats. "My ex-wife and I have two little girls," he explained. "The youngest is twelve now, but she still can be bribed with ice cream."

"I guess you never get too old for that," Alex agreed, smiling half-heartedly. With the kids finally taken care of, she had time to start worrying about the press conference itself. Fighting with the kids had at least provided her with some distraction. Now she had nothing.

Donna, seeing that Alex was free, crossed the room to press a copy of the speech into her hands. "Between Patrick, Sam, and Toby, they made some more changes. I think they just tightened up the language this time, figuring that it would be a bad idea to have someone drown in a puddle."

Alex nodded, swallowing hard. "This is the final draft then?" she asked.

Donna shrugged. "Unless they decide to change it again in the time we've got left. Which I wouldn't necessarily put past them," she joked.

"I guess that I'd better read this then," she said, opening the black folder to reveal the neatly printed white pages. She turned away from the rest of the people and started to quietly mouth the words. She didn't want to stumble over unfamiliar phrases while she was behind the podium and out in front of the press.

"Um, guys," she called out after a moment, "when you say 'the funding feathers' you mean 'the founding fathers,' right?"

"We'll fix that," Sam replied. "And don't bother reading the fourth paragraph on the second page yet, Toby's still working on that one."

"Are you aware that we've got less than ten minutes left before I have to go out, in front of the press, and give this speech?" Alex demanded, her voice rising in volume as she continued. "This speech that you're still writing!"

"We'll have it for you in a couple of minutes," Sam reassured her. "Just as soon as we find a place to print it."


End file.
